


All The Promises

by its_alive



Series: Speeding Up [2]
Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Drama, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Psychological Drama, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-19 03:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 36
Words: 244,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_alive/pseuds/its_alive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to "Speeding Up". WIP: updates until chapter 38, then they will be coming slowly. Spencer and Emily are already a couple, but will they survive A's threats as well as their own fears and restraints?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thief In The Night

She exhaled all the air in her lungs with an irregular grunt.

Emily's belt was pressing between her legs, and with every move Spencer felt the air running out of her respiratory system. Her grunt sounded weaker than a moan, almost silent, but more intense because it left her breathless.

The breathless semi-moan caught Emily's attention for a second. Emily lifted her head, and the next thing Spencer knew they were kissing hungrily again. The belt pressed harder against her, and Emily's wise, always-too-knowing hand came to support her butt, somehow allowing to increase the pressure instead of reducing it. Yes, Emily was all too wise. Wise and smart and ready. Spencer felt her butt being lifted and pushed as she leaned harder against whatever was pressing her inner thighs and her crotch.

The semi-moan sounded as a clearly audible, full-on moan this time, as Spencer struggled to balance her posture and breathe at the same time. A moan or a cry, she still had no air in her lungs, and her fingers clang to Emily's head, desperately trying to hold on to the feeling but also afraid of losing control forever, and completely.

They were on Spencer's bed, wearing only their jeans, shirts and bras spread over the sheets on a late spring afternoon.

It had all started as a fairly intense making out session right after Spencer had offered to give Emily a massage. Her back was hurting a little, and Spencer had meant well – and also bad. Everyone knew that massages led to at least partial nudity, and that nudity led to making out, and that making out possibly, surely led to sex, given the right circumstances in the right period of time. In her case, at least, she had made no secret out of it. At first Emily had resisted – Spencer's mom would arrive sometime before 6, and Emily generally disliked making out when parents were close enough – but then she had given in to Spencer's notorious manipulative abilities, and what had started as a massage had slowly transformed into other forms of touching and groping that were overtly sexual and needed no masks or excuses, and now Spencer was on top of Emily without her shirt on, her breathing dangerously becoming erratic and too hard and heavy to sustain her in normal, standard terms of life. An intense flinch clenched her lower stomach and sent shocks down her legs to her feet and up her spine to her head when Emily pressed against her even harder, making her shiver in response.

The damned belt was doing one hell of a job.

Another moan came out of her mouth, this time louder. Spencer knew what it meant. Or believed she knew, anyway.

In the spur of the moment she wondered how it was possible that she initiated these things to finally get trapped in Emily's web of nice, tied handiworks. Or belt-works, as it seemed to be the case.

She tried a counter-attack by lowering her head to bite Emily's earlobe with the remnants of her energy, then lowered it even more to reach her palpitating neck when she realized Emily was having trouble to breathe as well. Oh, but realizing that only made it harder for her. She bit and sucked Emily's sweaty neck, but the result of her counter-attack was her own immediate, instant panting.

Her body pressed harder, helped by Emily's hand pushing her butt, so close, so dangerously close to where the action was taking place at this very moment that the mere proximity to it rushed her blood to her pulse. Her whole body became a pounding tremor, a pulsating drum making sounds all over the room, or so she figured as she felt it in her ears and against Emily's own, pulsating bare skin.

She  _was_  going to lose it. And it was for real this time.

Emily moved a little, trying to find air for herself, and for a brief moment Spencer lost the contact of the belt. Instead she rubbed directly against Emily's jeans, which provided a sort of softer, sweeter, more enduring pleasure against the fabric of her own leggings, reducing a little the intensity of the pangs and the shivers that were hitting her before. She recovered enough from it to search for Emily's mouth again, and she bit her lips, played with her tongue, breathed the inside of her mouth, gaining enough control to actually miss the contact that the belt was inflicting on her body. She moved a little trying to find it again, but somehow the posture had changed and the belt was nowhere to be found.

Emily released some of the pressure on her butt, and things got softer and slower.

Saved by the belt. Or by the lack thereof. She wondered if Emily had realized the relaxation of her breathing and if that had made her slow things down, pushing the brake pedal the same way she had pushed the accelerator when she had firmly grabbed her butt to increase the tension. Driving the car, driving their bodies around the bed, the room was spinning.

She moved slightly to the left, sitting now directly on Emily's thigh and wrapping her torso with her legs. Now she could feel Emily's electrical skin underneath the denim fabric and not only against her, and she sensed it so warm, hot even through the jeans, that again her heart raced and her stomach got gripped and squeezed tightly with arousal. Sexual drive. Sexual impulse, instinct, sexual pull.

Sex.

She'd been so close to getting there.

And they weren't even naked. Completely naked.

Spencer let her body slide a little until she lied down on the bed, softly pulling Emily to lie down with her. They both breathed deeply, fully recovering their normal respiration, and then looked at each other in sweat and wonder.

"You do realize what almost happened here, right?" Spencer asked, her palm resting on Emily's stomach, feeling the beat of the aorta artery underneath her fingers.

Emily seemed a little confused by her question.

"That was pretty intense", she responded, as a synthesis of the situation, and turned a little to rest on her elbow so she could face Spencer.

"It was". Spencer looked into Emily's eyes. "I almost…" She thought about it. The sexual vocabulary at her disposal always seemed so inadequate. "I think I almost had an orgasm", she decided, immediately regretting her choice of words.

Emily smiled sly. "Oh, yeah? I did notice some intense breathing on your part".

"Yeah, that's what I mean".

Emily gave a grunted, pleasured sound and sat up to search for her bra and her shirt.

"Don't get dressed yet", Spencer protested, reaching out to Emily's back with her arm and suddenly getting a global view of Emily's back and, more precisely, of the lower part of it, right where the jeans fitted her hips and her butt. Goodness, that butt. She sneaked her fingers in the peak of Emily's jeans and tried to pull her body back until Emily turned around, her bra already on.

"I gotta go before your mom arrives", Emily explained matter-of-factly.

"There's still time. And we gotta talk about what almost happened". She waited to see if Emily said something. "Your belt or something in your jeans was…". Again, she faced the lack of words. "Something was hitting me".

Emily didn't totally understand, so Spencer sat up too and looked down at Emily's pants. Suddenly she realized it wasn't the belt; it was the button. It was a rather big, solid metal button.

She touched it with her fingers.

"This". She pointed at it, and Emily looked down at it too. "You were pushing me against it".

"I was just… pressing". Emily acknowledged. "And touching your butt". She offered a brilliant, winning smile.

"Yeah, I did notice that". Spencer leaned over to kiss her. "So what if I'd have… you know,  _come_?" She chose this phrasing now.

"You think it could've happened really?" Emily asked, curious. She had noticed the erratic breathing but had not really considered that possibility.

Spencer nodded. "It  _was_  gonna happen until you moved. Or I moved. Someone moved."

Emily gave it some thought. "Good", she finally said, a satisfied smirk on her face. Then she put on her shirt.

"Hey", Spencer protested again. "It's not only  _good_. It means something. It means we're like… gonna have sex already? Or would it be sex if I'd had an orgasm?"

She kept changing the words.

"I… don't know". Emily answered, shrugging. "I just know it's good".

"Yeah, it's good for you because you feel like you're good". Spencer accused. "But I wanna know if it means something".

"Of course it means something. It means I'm good at driving you wild". Emily offered, smug-faced but still somehow naive, and before Spencer could do something to stop her, she got up and left the bed.

"Hey!" Spencer protested again, getting a hold of Emily's wrist and pulling her back. "Talk to me. I wanna talk". She pouted a little to get what she wanted.

Emily sat again on the edge of the bed.

"Why is it that important? It's great news. I'm happy for you", Emily teased.

"Thanks". Spencer stuck her tongue out. "It is important because I…" She wondered about why it was important. "I always thought you… had an orgasm when you were already having sex. So… you know, I just wanna know what we're doing."

"We're not having sex, Spencer", Emily settled.

"Okay, I get that. But what if I'd… you know, had it?"

"If you'd had it, then… you'd had it".

Spencer laughed, suddenly grasping a touch of shyness in Emily's eyes and weird phrasing.

"Say it".

"Say what?"

"Say  _it_. The word".

"What word?" Emily played innocent now. She didn't want to say it.

"The word you're trying not to say. Orgasm. Coming. Climax. Whatever you choose".

"No."

"Yes".

They stared at each other for a moment, another battle of the wills being played that Emily was sure she would lose this time. These were the kinds of battles she still lost to Spencer.

"Fine.", Emily gave in. "Orgasm. Are you happy now? Orgasm", she repeated, feeling the instant blush creep to her cheeks and nose at the awkwardness of the word. "If you'd had it, it still wouldn't be sex".

"Is it the first time you say it aloud?" Spencer asked, laughing. At least she wasn't the only one who felt weird using this vocabulary.

"I've never had to use it before, you know", Emily conceded. She  _had_  used it in other contexts. But never, obviously, in this one.

Spencer dragged Emily back into the bed and sat on top of her again.

"I haven't used it either. Well, in my mind I have, obviously. Have you?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Yeah".

She lied down, contemplating Spencer's nudity in awe, lines formed with her bones and muscles and the soft curves that rounded them. Everything in her was delicate, kind of small and fine-tuned, proportioned, but at the same time firm and solid.

A while ago she still blushed when she stared at her body like that. It wasn't happening anymore. She could stare as much as she wanted.

"So why are you so shy about it?"

"I'm not shy about giving one to you", Emily smirked again. "I'm just shy about having to put words to it and explain it, which is exactly what you always wanna do".

Spencer's passion about definitions never ceased to amaze her.

"So… you think it still wouldn't be sex." Spencer picked up the enquiry she had started. She was a little confused about it.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because… we're not totally naked, we're not doing stuff, like really big, dirty stuff, because…" She tried to think of more reasons.

"So we need to get naked and do really dirty stuff to actually have sex?"

"Yep".

Spencer nodded, sensing an inner agreement in her head. So now she had found out she could actually have an orgasm, or could come, or whatever other expression she could use, without being naked and doing really dirty stuff.

Just like that.

An innocent button could do it. If Emily was wearing it.

"So what do you consider really dirty stuff, in terms of girl-to-girl sexual intercourse?"

"Are you serious?"

"Don't I look serious?"

She did look serious. She had what Emily always figured as the classic expression of a researcher, or what Emily had come to see as the classic expression of a researcher because of what she saw in Spencer's face: a slight frown, vivid brown eyes, half pout on her lips. She was only missing her old glasses. Maybe Emily should get her new ones, even if she didn't really need them anymore.

"Why don't you read a couple of books to find out?" Emily opted for a joke out. "While I work on driving you crazy like I always do".

Spencer used the palm of her hand to give a slight pat on Emily's cheek.

"You're getting so funny. You can joke about it, but I  _am_  gonna read a couple of books. Or magazine articles." Spencer responded, thinking it'd be easier to find the latter ones on the internet. "Now, you always say you know about this more than I do, so just go on and show me your knowledge. Enlighten me".

"I don't have a special knowledge. I just think we'll know when we get there", Emily calmly stated, her hands on Spencer's thighs.

"When we get where?"

"There. Sex." Emily clarified. "We just keep doing stuff, we just do whatever we wanna do, and when we reach that level, we will know. That's it. Don't stress over it".

"I'm not stressing over it".

"You are. A little".

Spencer sighed. She  _was_  stressing a little. She needed to know what she was doing now, what she was going to do next, and then after that, and what it all meant.

Everything was clearer with straight sex.

You had sex with a boy when there was… yeah, that.

But she was still a little confused regarding sex with girls. Yeah, you could do so many things, or so she'd heard, and would have to read about it in the articles she was going to search, but there didn't seem to be clear limits between one activity and the other.

And she knew they were getting close to doing dirtier stuff.

For god's sake, she had almost had an  _orgasm_  just by pressing her crotch against a button of Emily's pants.

She wondered why Emily was not so interested in the matter and why she wasn't as close as her to losing control. Emily sensed her inner worries somehow, because she made an effort to sit up again and she wrapped her arms around her, kissing her cheeks and her nose.

"Spencer, we're not having sex yet. But we're doing stuff, and it's good that we're both enjoying it, and that we're both good at it, and…"

"You mean you're good at it", Spencer deadpanned, frustration in her features.

"And you're good too."

"Then why am I the only one who wants to learn what to do and how to do it?"

Emily took a deep sigh. Spencer's quest for perfection could never be forgotten, and it was affecting their almost-sexual life now.

"I don't worry about what to do. We're doing good. You too", she reassured.

"You think?"

"I  _know_. Trust me. I know".

She saw how Spencer's features relaxed a bit.

"Yeah." Spencer smiled and kissed her. "I'm still gonna read those articles, though. We're getting close to the turning point".

Whatever that was, she didn't know. That was why she was going to read the articles in the first place.

"Okay."

"And you're gonna keep working on being a natural wild-driver". She placed her index finger on Emily's lips and then proceeded to kiss her once more.

"I'll study too, I promise", Emily laughed.

They kissed for a while, the warmth of Spencer's bare upper body sending waves of electricity to Emily's own dressed self. As much as she liked to show off her recently acquired abilities when it came to driving Spencer wild, the truth of the matter was that she was probably just as close to losing control as Spencer was. One of the reasons for that was the feeling Spencer gave her when they were like this.

She wasn't a natural. But being with Spencer came naturally to her.

She felt she could read her like an open book, know her, study her without really making any effort. She didn't need to read any article. It was enough for her to touch her skin and sort of let herself be driven by Spencer's actions and responses.

Spencer seemed to think Emily was in control of this thing, but Emily saw it differently. Both of them were in control, and at the same time they were controlled by something that was beyond them. Call it lust, or love, she didn't really care about the name. She was totally sure she could never feel the same natural complicity with anyone else, because no one else would allow her to easily, effortlessly read every expression, every sound, every minimal shift of tone or body temperature. The way Spencer did allow her.

So, whatever the name, whatever the activity, in her own eyes Spencer  _was_  driving her wild, and bold, and crazy, and she trusted to that more than anything right now.

However, she broke the kiss. One of her perpetual nightmares consisted in being walked in by Veronica Hastings while they were involved in this kind of situation.

And Veronica Hastings was going to arrive in a while. And Spencer was semi-nude and the bed looked like they had actually done all kinds of dirtier things on it.

She searched for Spencer's bra and T-shirt and gave them to her.

"Put these on. I can't leave with you looking at me like that".

Spencer raised her brows at her quizzically.

"Then stay."

"I can't."

"We can have dinner with my mom."

The mere image of a family dinner with Veronica Hastings impelled Emily's butt to get out of the bed and of the house like she had been threatened by a pack of wolves. She moved Spencer's lighter body away from her legs and stood up in an instant.

"Not tonight", she answered.

Spencer grabbed her right leg from the bed and pulled her back a little, wrapping her arms around her waist. She hadn't put on her clothes yet.

"Why not? It's an innocent dinner. She's not gonna know."

"But  _I_  know. I feel like I'm raping her daughter, I'm not gonna have dinner with her the day I almost made you come."

This time she said it without thinking, so the word just popped out of her mouth like it had always been there, ready to jump outside at the air of this very same room.

Spencer lifted her head to look at her. "Rape? I didn't know rapists caused their victims to almost come, Em."

"Okay, I admit it's a bad choice of words. But it's still awkward".

"You realize you're sneaking in and out of my house like you're some kind of thief when you've spent all your life  _in_  here, right?"

Emily bent her body down to steal a kiss from Spencer's lips and then released her leg and her waist from her embrace.

"Like a thief in the night. It's kind of a turn-on".

"It'd be a turn-on if you actually  _stayed_  for the night and stole something from us."

"Like what?"

"Me." Spencer offered a sexy, twisted smile, and then started to get dressed again.

"I'll think about it."

"If you have to think about it, then it's no good. I don't want you then".

She hooked her bra and got up to get another shirt. That one was too sweaty due to her non-entirely sexual activities.

Emily cornered her against the closet.

"I don't know why, but I'm pretty sure you still want me".

"Don't be so sure." But she put her arms around Emily's waist again and pulled her closer. Then she lowered her hands to grab her butt.  _That_  glorious, absolutely perfect butt she had come to admire every second she laid eyes and hands on it.

They looked at each other until Emily slowly leaned in and kissed her.

Emily thought she'd definitely stay for dinner another day. One day when they hadn't almost had sex on Spencer's bedroom.

One day when she wouldn't be thinking about having sex on Spencer's bedroom.

Or when she could at least disguise it.

She'd better master the art of not blushing soon enough, because she had to completely win Veronica Hastings' favour and, to do that, she'd obviously have to  _see_  her more often now that she was dating Spencer. Spencer Hastings.  _The_  famous Spencer Hastings. The smartest girl in Rosewood. The sexiest, classiest girl in Pennsylvania. Maybe in the whole of the States. Or the world. Brains and looks and styles combined.

The girl who could do anything, who'd earn the world's applause.

It was her girl now.

She'd definitely have to get her a new pair of glasses to make this new assignment she was focused on even more appealing than it already was.

 


	2. The Secret We Know

"Are you totally sure you're gonna wear that?"

Emily asked the question for the third time, and Spencer looked at her feigning, again, annoyance. Although this time Emily did catch a glimpse of real irritation in her hazel eyes.

"Are you being indoctrinated by Hanna now? I'm telling you I know how to combine it."

They were walking around the mall, each of them carrying a couple of bags. They had come with Hanna, who'd been left behind in a store where she wanted to spend all the money she didn't have. They were on a summer-clothes shopping spree, and there were really very fewer ways to make Hanna happier; maybe only a winter-clothes shopping spree could actually beat it. As for them, they were already satisfied, even if Spencer had bought the oddest feathered belt, the kind of which only Aria would wear. In fact, Emily had thought Spencer was getting it as a present for Aria. She was totally puzzled when she found out Spencer wanted it for herself.

"I'm not saying it's a gay belt, I'm just saying it's impossible to combine with anything you have…" Her voice grew weaker and dissolved in the air as she distinguished a well-known figure in the distance.

She was holding Spencer's hand while they walked, but she carefully, subtly let it go when she realized the encounter was unavoidable.

The figure was walking straight to them, and it was stupid to try hiding.

She turned a little to look directly at Spencer, who'd already realized Toby had seen them too. Spencer stopped and Emily could tell she was holding her breath. It was the first time. The first time they were running into him since they started dating. The first time he saw them together since Spencer told him about them being together.

The three of them had made a tacit pact of non-aggression which involved trying not to run into each other at all. Emily had actually seen him a couple of times, and they'd been polite, and distant, like the two nice, distant people they could be, but he'd managed to avoid all contact with Spencer. However, in a town like Rosewood, how long could you go without seeing someone who didn't want to be seen? Except for A, everybody ended up being exposed. Even invisible, tender Toby could not escape from a situation like this, although an encounter at the mall was the least expected scenario for such a thing.

What was he doing at the mall anyway?

Emily tried to keep her composure as she stopped alongside Spencer and waited for the encounter to happen, while Toby took long steps in their direction, with the same pained expression Emily had always seen in him, save the period of time he'd been dating Spencer. The period of time he'd been happy and light. She got the idea. She really got the idea and it made her feel guilty because she  _was_  happy and light at his expense.

He hadn't changed a bit. He was still the same misty-eyed, mellow guy who'd pass for a killer or a saint, no in-betweens, until you talked to him and realized his heart was just like a giant panda bear waiting to be adopted and cared for. He stopped right in front of them and forced a very simple, sweet smile, which was genuine and direct – he was the most authentic person in town, or so Emily thought –, although it still felt like someone had plastered him with it, like the smile was not for them really, or not for the actual, real them in there, but maybe for the them that had been in the past, when friends and lovers had not been messed up and changed positions in the field.

"Hi, Em", he greeted, and his eyes rapidly shifted from Spencer and came to rest on Emily's face. "Spencer", he added, once he was already looking at Emily.

"Hey, Toby", Emily greeted back. She heard a weak "hello" coming out of Spencer's mouth by her side. "What are you doing here?"

She felt the obligation to speak, filling in the silent gaps. And perhaps it wasn't the right question to ask, but it was her shot at small talk and, anyway, it was kind of weird to see him there.

"Long story", he answered, clearly not wanting to get into detail. He smiled sadly as he felt obliged to return the favour. "And you?" He took a moment to look at the bags they were holding, still focusing mainly on Emily's figure and face, although he did send a quick, icy glance at Spencer. "You guys are getting summery already, right?"

He tried being nice. He  _was_  nice. He just wouldn't look at Spencer at all.

"Yeah, we came with Hanna, you know she's a fan of the mall." Emily explained, even though Toby had never really had any close contact with Hanna. Toby had first been her friend; then Spencer's boyfriend; he never really got to treat Hanna and Aria before Spencer double-dumped him, firstly following A's threats and secondly depriving him of any chance of a comeback. "She's somewhere around here…", Emily continued talking about Hanna, turning her head to look around as if she could find her there. But Hanna was inside the store. She wouldn't magically appear to save them. And Spencer was silent and pale, as Emily could collect when she scanned her surroundings.

Another silence followed, neither one of them knowing what to add. Emily had run out of ideas. Toby had nothing else to say, and Spencer was apparently too shocked to speak at all. So a final glance was exchanged between Emily and Toby, and he again sent a very brief look to Spencer, the kind of which sort of certifies the presence of the other person, probably for future recollection, but that is meant to not linger, to not send any personal message, and that with that intended ignorance says all it has to say. He was sending the message, and Emily, who was not the recipient of the glance, understood it perfectly.

She wondered if Spencer was getting it too.

He said his goodbye, and Emily told him to take care – and she felt like such a hypocrite when she said it, not because she didn't want him to take care of himself, but because she wasn't his friend anymore – and finally Spencer uttered her own, weak, liquid goodbye. He left, his tall, pained figure disappearing into the crowd in the bright whiteness of the mall. Purity in the consumer's world. Purity uncorrupted, but leaving in suffering.

Emily immediately directed her attention to Spencer's pale, stone-cold expression. Only her eyes gave her away, sending alternate waves and shocks of water and fire, pain and anger taking the turn one after the other.

"Are you all right?" Emily asked, although the response was in front of her and she didn't really need to hear it.

Spencer started walking again, and when Emily didn't follow, she stopped, turned around and sent her a pleading look that made Emily move after her. They took some aimless steps together.

"Did you see how he wouldn't even look at me?" Spencer finally said, and her voice sounded like gravel.

Emily took her by the arm.

"He's still hurt", she answered, not letting her walk.

"He hates me". The fact that she knew he'd hate her when she broke his heart didn't make it any less painful for her.

Emily looked around for a second and then dragged Spencer by the arm. "Come with me". She'd seen a restroom just some steps away and it was better to continue the conversation there.

They opened the door and they found themselves in another world, dark gray zen-like walls and extended mirrors where they suddenly saw their grim reflection.

Emily drove Spencer to one of the walls after she checked no one was there and no one could listen. Only A. But A, then again, was everywhere, so it didn't really matter.

She took a moment to look into Spencer's eyes, which were still showing signs of both anger and sadness, neither emotion taking over the other yet. She didn't do well with rejection from people about whom she cared.

"He doesn't hate you", Emily proceeded to explain the message she'd clearly understood in Toby's demeanour.

"He doesn't look at me, he doesn't talk to me, Em. How do you call that? I see why he's hurt, but come on, it's been almost two months." She unleashed her emotions, allowing herself to be unfair and unjust and unclear, now that they were alone.

"He still loves you. That's what I call it." Emily spoke with such confidence that Spencer closed her mouth. "That's why he won't look at you or say anything to you. Don't you get it? It's humiliating for him. What's he gonna say?  _Please come back to me?_ "

She'd understood Toby's message so clearly she wondered how it was possible that Spencer was taking such a long, laboured effort to get it.

Spencer blinked a couple of times, struggling with the idea.

"I don't want him to still love me. I don't want him to hate me", she finally said, shifting from one thing to another. "I just want him to forgive me. I didn't do anything that bad. I didn't cheat, I didn't lie, I wasn't cruel or mean. I just left him. And then, only after I did leave him", she stated heatedly, because she was trying to defend herself in the trial she still carried against her own intentions and actions, "and  _only after that_ , I got involved with you. It's not a crime. I didn't want to hurt him that bad".

"You can't control what he feels for you, Spencer. You can't control what people feels about you. When are you finally gonna learn that lesson?"

Spencer's eyes filled with tears at Emily's raw statement. She didn't cry, but she didn't find the voice to speak either.

Emily had always known her really well. Always had a way of sensing every inner earthquake she felt. But, since they got together as a couple, she also had a way of saying things to her in such a straightforward, direct manner she never really deployed with anyone else in the world, that Spencer felt undressed, and unarmed, and sometimes even cornered in a place with no exit. As if Emily was the only person who cared enough to get her back in line and cut all bullshit from her. Not that she bullshitted a lot. But she sometimes did, and Emily always cut het off.

Those were the privileges your girlfriend enjoyed, she guessed. Emily could touch her in places where no one else dared to go. Figuratively speaking, but also in a literal way.

"Spence, he'll forgive you in time. He  _needs_  time". Emily's tone grew much softer, and she held her hand and took it to her lips to kiss. "It'll be all right. He'll eventually let it go".

So Emily was still her sweet, gentle Emily. But she wasn't afraid to tell her the truth.

"He's forgiven you already."

"He's not in love with me. I was just the friend who behaved nastily."

"You couldn't behave nastily even if you tried."

Emily looked at her as if Spencer didn't really understand everything that had happened yet. She  _had_  behaved nastily. Maybe not grossly, obnoxiously nasty, but she  _had_  wanted what was his, and she  _had_  acted on it. Not immediately, not while they were dating, although it could've have happened if Spencer hadn't dumped him first thanks to A. And he was her friend. And she liked him. And he had been good to her, always.

You didn't get the chance to do that and  _not_  be nasty. She'd accepted that. She still struggled with it sometimes, but she had accepted it because she was happy. Because she'd gotten the girl.

But the truth was the truth, and nasty was nasty.

Instead of saying any of these things, she kissed Spencer's palm again, overcome by her tenderness. People tended to see Spencer as such a confident, sometimes even hostile human being that they completely missed how soft, how incredibly generous she was with everyone she cared for. She was utterly incapable of thinking anything mean about someone she loved.

Except whenever she fought. Then she could get really bitchy.

But it wasn't the case now.

Spencer left her palm on Emily's face after being sweetly kissed. It amazed her how easily Emily could read her, how she always seemed to know the proper balance, the right measure of honesty and sweetness she needed.

"You think he'll ever talk to me again?", she asked. Why did she still care? He didn't want to talk to her? Fine. So be it.

But she did care after all.

"He will. When he falls out of love."

Spencer rolled her eyes at the expression. Three months ago she would have melted at the certainty that he loved her so much, but now she found it terribly annoying, and inconvenient, and sad.

She felt sad, but at least she didn't feel angry anymore.

"Let's get out of here." She asked for it, but all she wanted was to push a button that would magically transport her to the car without having to face the possibility of running into Toby again.

"We need to get Hanna."

Spencer didn't move, didn't want to move out of the restroom, really. So Emily decided she would go get Hanna out of the store and would come back to the restroom to get Spencer. The special operation was carried through efficiently. Hanna hardly resisted because she had already gotten three hundred dresses more than she needed, and they all walked back to Spencer's car without having to confront any other incident. Then they went to a local coffee shop. Emily felt almost relieved the encounter with Toby  _had_  already happened. At least they wouldn't be afraid of it anymore. She checked up on Spencer from time to time, while they let Hanna explain her new acquisitions to them, and she still saw traces of sadness, but she seemed to be holding it together, so Emily supposed it'd be fine after a while. She was trying to follow Hanna's train of thoughts on summer clothing when she received a text. She had received some texts from A lately. Mostly trying to mock her and Spencer, in a way that made her think even A, whoever it was, had taken it as a shock that they were actually together-together. But she knew the blow was coming. And there was still that thing about the police investigation against Spencer.

She opened the text only to find Spencer had written it. Spencer, who was there, right in front of her listening to Hanna, or pretending to do it. When had she written it? She must have done it when Hanna was showing them the skirt with the black buttons that Emily had admired so much.

" _Sorry, not A ;) Crash the night at my place? Please_ "

Emily found this kind of secretive conversation exciting, although it did make her feel a little bad regarding Hanna, who'd stolen a glance at her trying to check if the text was from A.

" _Ur parents not there tonite?_ " She texted back.

" _Yeah. But please! I'll be good_ "

She guessed she was asking her to spend the night because she was feeling vulnerable and sad. But, with her parents there, it wasn't a very good idea, and…

She got another text.

" _U'll prob have to sleep in the guest. Parents are mean people_ ".

Parents had suddenly become worried about their daughters having sex on their houses the minute after they'd found out the two best friends were dating. A threeway phone conversation between Pam Fields, Ashley Marin and Veronica Hastings had taken place regarding the new rules for sleepovers. The new rule meant basically: no more sleepovers unless Hanna and Aria were also there.

Emily sighed. She'd never slept in the guestroom at the Hastings'. But she just couldn't say no to Spencer. So she proceeded to write another text, until a tsk of disgust came out of Hanna's mouth and she lifted her head again.

"Who're you texting?"

"No one." Why did she get caught? Spencer had written three texts already and had gone unnoticed. She put the phone in her pocket and looked at Hanna. "Hanna, do you mind if I spend the night at Spencer's? Can you tell your mom?" She could feel Spencer's open-wide expression of surprise at her question, because she was probably hoping to keep the whole conversation secret.

Hanna sent Spencer a look of mischief, instead of answering Emily.

"Sexy times tonight, huh? I thought your parents were there".

"They are." Emily responded, not giving time to Spencer to come up with an idea. "I need Spencer's help with…" Now that school was over she couldn't really use the homework assistance excuse. Damn. "With something". Yeah, clever. Hanna was going to buy  _something_  the same way she bought clothes. She should've let Spencer talk. Now she could feel the mocking, tickling laughter in Spencer's amused expression.

"I need her to stay", Spencer intervened. "She'll sleep in the guestroom. Sadly."

"You can always go on a midnight excursion, Spence."

"I'll probably give it a shot", Spencer joked, although a silent, wordless exchange between her and Emily took place, where the agreement was made and sealed.

Hanna agreed to tell her mom so the official phone call between Mrs. Marin and Mrs. Hastings would happen. Spencer seemed more relaxed now that she knew for sure that Emily would be there tonight. She wasn't very happy about the guestroom, but she couldn't do anything about it. Her mom was ruthless, even though she suspected it was all Pam Fields' doing.

The rest of the afternoon passed while they drank coffees and smoothies. When it was starting to get dark they went to the Marins', dropped Hanna there, got a change of clothes for Emily and drove to the Hastings', where they had the long-awaited dinner with Spencer's parents. At least Emily was infinitely glad she'd not had time today to grope and kiss all of Spencer's body like two weeks ago. It'd keep her from blushing and feeling like a pervert during dinner. She talked about swimming, responded Peter Hastings' questions and comments about the colleges she was thinking about, listened to the list of Spencer's talents and future career choices that she already knew Spencer had ahead of her, shared the concerns about Melissa's heart rate problem and the future career choices of Melissa's baby (who'd probably turn out to be a lawyer or a criminal; or both), and felt Spencer's fixated, amused gaze on her the whole time. She still found it really embarrassing, but sort of liberating, that Spencer had no problem whatsoever in showing her interest in her in front of her parents. It wasn't like she did anything inappropriate – it was Spencer after all, queen of manners and styles – but she made no secret of the change of status they had experienced. She didn't treat her as a friend anymore. She was careful but extremely warm, sending looks that said a lot, but that could say much more if her parents weren't there; and they saw it, knew the meaning of it, and took it in, while Emily fought back the slight panic attacks she felt every time she saw a change of expression in Peter or Veronica Hastings' faces.

She'd always been efficient when it came to social relations, despite her shyness, and she'd never, ever thought she'd get so anxious and panicked in front of her girlfriend's parents. She was a rather calm person. But, god, how she hated those situations now. She still didn't really understand why. Sometimes she thought it was because of Spencer turning gay because of her. Sometimes she thought it was because of how demanding and stressing the Hastings were. She'd always observed them from a distance, with the kind of clinical perspective you got from being an outsider; and she only cared about Spencer, knew the way she always struggled with her parents' expectations and demands, and the way that struggle affected her. But now she was an outsider who had a foot inside: she  _had_  to care about them, and she  _had_  to meet certain expectations in order to be a valued worth. So she got anxious to please them in a way she usually never did, because she was used to being liked by people, including the Hastings.

She liked Mrs. Hastings better. She was scary, but in a good way. A little like Spencer. Still, they were both kind of a pain in the ass. Very Hastings-like, but without the softness, and the generosity, and the radiating passion their daughter exuded. And they weren't warm people, not even to their daughter. She sometimes wondered how Spencer had turned out to be such a softie when most of the affection she'd been shown while growing up had been directed to her grades and not to her most personal, most precious qualities. But that was just the way it was. Spencer seemed to be used to it. She didn't always take it well – especially when it had to do with Melissa – but she was used to it. It was normal for her. But not for Emily, whose parents were morally conservative and rigid but pretty affectionate and sensitive to their kid, at least whenever they were there.

When the dinner ended, they watched a movie on TV. They were left alone in the living room, but they behaved well. Spencer was happy enough Emily was staying, so she didn't push it. It wasn't the day to push it. She'd finally managed the family dinner she was after, and Emily was spending the night (albeit in the guestroom, but not everything could be so good yet). Veronica Hastings came by the room to tell them good night and to politely send them upstairs, to each their own (room). So Emily was introduced, for the first time, to the Hastings' guestroom: it was a big, comfortable place with a big, comfortable bed where she'd sleep alone. It had its own bathroom, where she changed into her PJs and brushed her teeth, ready to sleep, although she wasn't sleepy yet. She sat on the bed, the lamp on the bedside table offering a view of this strange room that was meant for strangers. And for dangerous gay girlfriends. She was mentally taking notes about how the dinner had gone when Spencer's head appeared at the door after a knock, and she came in wearing an enormous T-shirt that worked as a nightwear for her, an extremely open and explicit view to her long, slim legs that Emily definitely admired and lately lusted for.

"Hey, you", she said, closing the door carefully. "I came to say goodnight to the thief."

She took some steps towards the bed and, after a moment of hesitation, sat on it next to Emily, whose legs were crossed and bent in the lotus position.

"Hey", Emily finally responded, while she observed Spencer next to her. She finally reached out her arm to her face and brushed away a strand of unruly, wavy hair. "How're you feeling?"

"Pretty good, if you don't consider the fact that I hate that you have to sleep here."

Emily smiled. "Yeah. They're parents. That's their job."

"Right. It's also their job to protect us from murderers and stalkers, you know", she complained in her typical sarcastic fashion. "But no, they're here to protect us from the dangers of making babies which we can't really make. It makes so much sense."

"It's the law of nature", Emily joked. Aside from the fact that parents  _should_  protect them from murderers and stalkers, she found it natural that they didn't want them having sex or even making out while they were there. Maybe she was conservative like her parents were.

She observed Spencer's features closely.

"What?" Spencer asked, curious.

"You still look a little sad."

Spencer sighed. "I'm not sad, I'm just… I'm a little disappointed things turned out this way with him." They both knew who they were talking about. Emily kept looking at her, so she decided that maybe she expected her to continue. "I do care about him and I wanted him to be happy, and I didn't really know, I  _really_  didn't know it was gonna be like this."

"It's just the way it is. You want to be friends with him, but it's his choice not to", Emily offered.

Spencer winced a little, her mouth frowning. "It's not friends. It's… I don't wanna be left with this feeling that I caused such a great damage to a person like him", she explained. To a person like him: noble, and pure, and good beyond all that he'd already endured.

Emily nodded in understanding, silence in her throat but not in her eyes.

All of a sudden Spencer realized she was complaining to the person she loved about a person she didn't love anymore. And the person she loved was there by her side, listening to her, offering her ideas and her comfort, while being kept in the guestroom where she'd been put just because they couldn't really keep their hands off each other. She recalled the day she'd broken up with Toby, two months ago. Emily had stayed the night, had lied down next to her on her bed. Spencer had talked, and Emily had listened. Then Emily had also talked (a little), and Spencer had not totally listened. Now Emily was here again, and the situation was different, but it was still the same. They were the same people. But they were in love.

"I'm not sad because I still love him or anything", she blurted out, unexpectedly even for her. "I love you. I mean, I  _really_  love you."

It was the first time she'd said it out loud to her.

Emily smiled and touched her face again, this time brushing an invisible, non-existent strand of hair.

"I love you too", she simply said.

"You do?"

"Big news, huh?"

"Definitely", Spencer laughed. They'd both said it – not that she needed to hear, but she was certainly glad she'd heard – and her heart swelled up with elation and love. "It's always better to know for sure."

"Yeah, it is. What took you so long?", Emily joked.

"Hey, I'm the first one who said the words. You just got the I-love-you-too answer. I'm the one who took the risk."

"Sure, it's such a huge risk I wonder how you even opened your mouth", Emily joked again. "I kissed you first.  _That_  was a risk."

"I kissed you back. You must've known what you were doing", she argued, although Emily was right. That one had been a bigger risk.

"I always know what I'm doing", Emily half-heartedly lied. She'd had no idea what she was doing. Well, she'd had a gut feeling, strong and intense, but it could've been mistaken.

It was the best thing she'd ever done, actually.

Spencer leaned over, unable to resist the game anymore, and kissed her briefly. They had said they loved each other and that certainly deserved a kiss, even if her mother decided to knock the door at the very moment. But no one came.

So she lied down on the bed and rested her head on Emily's thighs. The touch of her bare skin – Emily was wearing her cute pyjama shorts – immediately caused her to shiver in response. She couldn't really hold it at all anymore. She was in desperate need of sex or whatever resembled it; she just needed the intimacy and the touch. But they couldn't do anything at all tonight, and that frustrated her to her limits.

She snorted, angry at her mother and at Emily's mother and at Hanna's mother and at every mother in the world.

"What's wrong now?" Emily asked, amused, and she put her hands on Spencer's head and started massaging it to get her to relax.

"I'm just incredibly pissed that we can't sleep together in the same room after our little confession", Spencer explained, and she closed her eyes, trying to enjoy the feeling of Emily's fingers pressing and working up and down her scalp. "It's not like we're gonna do anything with them here. I'm not even talking about sex."

"Sure you're not."

Spencer could hear Emily's tease in her voice, so she opened up her eyes to look at her.

"Seriously. I'm just talking about sleeping in the same bed." Now it was the same bed and not the same room. "We've slept together many times and nothing ever happened."

"Times have changed", Emily asserted, her amusement increasing. "I'm pretty sure I can't sleep in the same bed with you and not do anything at all."

Spencer raised her brows at her. "Don't start with that. You're gonna make me nervous."

And by nervous she meant horny, and she knew Emily would understand. Who was she kidding? She obviously couldn't control what she'd do if they slept  _now_  in the same bed. But she had the right to complain about the situation.

She closed her eyes again, as Emily continued relaxing her head. It all felt so good she almost felt peaceful and un-pissed at the impossibility to share the room or the bed. She couldn't believe she'd felt so sad after running into Toby. Now she couldn't see anything remotely sad about the day or the night. Only the knowledge that she'd have to eventually leave Emily's room upset her, but she just had to take it. Maybe she could stay for ten more minutes.

She tried to avert her thoughts from Emily's thighs underneath her head, so close to her mouth and to her own hands, and to concentrate on the rumour of Emily's fingers on her hair. They managed to induce a long, deep sensation of calmness and well-being.

She fell asleep. When she woke up she was still in the same position, only Emily had slipped under the covers and had left her there, probably too concerned about what bringing her under the covers with her would mean if they were discovered. Or if they just realized they were not being discovered.

The alarm clock said it was 1 a.m. She stood up, stealing a final glance at Emily's peaceful, beautiful figure on the bed, but she didn't touch her to let her sleep. She then turned off the lamp light and tentatively lighted the way out with her phone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Blood Bank", song by Bon Iver.


	3. The Second Ghost Of Summer Past

On the road to St. Andrews, Spencer's car was speeding up.

It was a nice, sunny Sunday morning, and Spencer had suddenly decided they were going to St. Andrews to spend the day. She'd been thinking about that for a while now. Had wanted to go with Emily ever since they'd started dating, and even before, when she was dating Toby, she'd  _wanted_  Emily to go there with them. Obviously, she didn't know why at the time, but now she knew, and seeing Toby a couple of days ago had only increased the yearning. Anyway they needed to get involved in different fun activities now that the summer was starting, especially because in a week they would be flying to Texas to spend some days there, and even though Spencer would go with her at the beginning, then Emily was going to stay there on her own for one more week, and that meant they were going to be separated. Only for one week, actually, but Spencer hated it with all of her being and with all of her soul. Still, she had to be grateful, because Emily had used her swim training to convince her parents that she needed to be back in Rosewood for most of the summer. The Fields didn't really like the idea, but they seemed to comply. She hoped they didn't actually blame her, since she was going to have to live in their Texan house during those days, and she was expecting to shine as a recently polished diamond for them.

Out of the corner of her eye, while she pushed the velocity of her car as much as the legal speed limits permitted her, Spencer looked at Emily. Her eyes were fixed on the road ahead of them, and her usual dreamy appearance was this time underlined by a touch of sleepiness. They'd gotten up early, so she looked like she'd just jumped out of bed. And that made her appear even cuter than she normally was.

Feeling Spencer's stealing glances on her skin coming and going, Emily returned the favor with an added element: her hand. Spencer was wearing overall shorts, her legs were exposed and her knees were asking for it, so Emily reached out her hand and touched her knee, which seemed safer than her thigh, but was still a part of the leg. A nice one, indeed. She'd lately become a little obsessed about Spencer's legs; couldn't really decide which parts of her body were more addictive, and her obsessions changed from week to week. The touch of her hand made Spencer gasp with surprise. She wasn't expecting that, and Emily enjoyed the surprise she caused. But she retrieved her hand, since she wasn't really in the mood for a car accident. It seemed they were in real need of longer and darker moments to spend together and alone, because no matter how much they made out, and how intense it could get, lately every little touch seemed to arouse a pretty extreme response on both of them. Emily wondered if Spencer had gotten to read those articles on lesbian sex; she hadn't mentioned anything to her since that time at her house. Maybe she should ask. Or maybe she should wait and see. Or maybe she should do something and move the action forward a little, although it was a little difficult these days; she'd thought the summer would make it easier, but in truth it was difficult to find those moments and make them last enough to feel safe and… basically that was it: safe. That was the only thing she cared about: feeling safe. From parents. Not even from A; only from parents. They seemed to be everywhere lately. Spencer had a point when she complained about their sexual paranoia; although, on the other hand, they  _were_  doing their job effectively, if you came to think of it.

They reached St. Andrews by 11 a.m. Spencer had made a point out of this visit, insisting on how she'd really enjoyed it the first time she'd come with Toby, on how she'd spent part of the trip wishing Emily was there, and on how she'd come back on her own some days later to get her the book she'd given her as a fake birthday present the day they made out in Hanna's room. So Emily was expecting to find some kind of symbolic temple of their then secret and not entirely conscious love, but St. Andrews was a fairly normal, small town, very similar to Rosewood in its essence, although it did have a lot of old bookstores that Spencer adored, as well as a street fair that was held on Sundays when the weather was nice. They agreed they'd visit the streets first, and Emily was delighted to find a lot of stands with different products on sale, from clothing ornaments to wood-carved decorations, where she decided to buy a couple of things for her mom. She was discussing a necklace with Spencer, not sure if she agreed with the choice of color Spencer had made for her, when she heard a familiar voice behind her, high and lively as it ever was.

"Emily! Emily Fields!"

She turned around at the sound of her name, only to find the person who owned the voice. Maya St. Germain.

How was it possible to run into two exes in a couple of days?

"Hey! Maya!" She smiled, and she noticed Spencer turning around too. "What are you doing here?"

She seemed to be asking that same question a lot lately. Well, it was only the second time, but it did feel like  _a lot_  in three days. What was this? The second ghost of Christmas past, who was visiting during the summer now? Was the universe trying to say something to them?

Maya approached her and gave her a warm, happy hug. They hadn't seen each other in forever. The last time they'd met had been some days before she kissed Spencer at her house. They had promised to stay in touch, but Emily hadn't really called her after that, and the weeks had passed, and things always got in the way, and really what was the need to call when you could actually spend your time doing more interesting things? Like kissing and touching your best-friend-turned-girlfriend.

"I told you I live kinda close now", Maya explained, as if it didn't really matter. She was wearing her hair curly again and her eyes shone in spices as they always did when she was happy. Which seemed to be most of the time. Except when she was in Juvie Camp and wouldn't pick up her calls. "I love coming here, I didn't know you liked it too!"

She finally seemed to register Spencer's presence by Emily's side, because her eyes moved to the tall, slender figure standing there.

"Hey, Maya." Spencer was the first one to talk when Maya's gaze finally came to rest upon her face. She still held the necklace whose color they were discussing: she was fixed on a very tenuous shade of green, while Emily liked the brown, light wooden-like one.

"Spencer!", Maya happily greeted, but she didn't hug her like she'd hugged Emily, of course. "Did you all come here today?" She looked around, probably expecting to find Hanna and Aria around, or at least Aria. This was the kind of place Aria would also enjoy, and Maya had always had a thing for Aria when it came to Emily's friends.

"No, we came together", Emily said, feeling an inexplicable flush. "Spencer wanted to show me this place."

"There are some really nice bookstores here", Spencer extended the explanation.

"Yeah, there are. I also love those", Maya agreed, warming up to Spencer. She'd always found Spencer an interesting character, although she was usually a little afraid of her stiffness. "So how're things going for you, Em?" She turned to look at Emily again, liveliness and spiciness bursting. She was happy to see her again.

"Pretty good", Emily responded. "I'm good. We're good."

"Yeah, we're good", Spencer added, not sure what they were exactly good about.

"Are you seeing someone now?", Maya asked out of curiosity, and Emily felt the ground move a little under her feet, because she hadn't told Maya about Spencer and her sudden question meant that Spencer was going to know that she hadn't told her about them. There was not a single trace of mischief or of reproach in Maya's voice. She just wanted to know. "Don't tell me you're seeing the girl who tried to drown you again."

Emily got nervous. Not about Maya, precisely, but about Spencer. Maya's theme had been a constant during their back-and-forth tension, previous to their relationship. Spencer had never really considered Maya that important, but still, she'd been her first girlfriend; and then there was Paige's mere existence, which had been mentioned.

She wanted to turn a little to inspect her face, but would it be too obvious if she did it now?

"No, no. That's totally over too", she answered, stuttering over her own words. Wasn't she just lovely when she got nervous and lost all her capacity for articulating meaningful sounds? She certainly hoped Spencer would think so. "We're together."

Maya didn't get it instantly, so Spencer decided to speak too. "Yeah, we're together. Together-together, as in… dating together", she offered as a further explanation, as Maya's eyes opened a little in recognition.

She didn't seem very surprised. A little bit, but not completely surprised.

"Oh, wow, I didn't know", Maya acknowledged, and Spencer looked at her as if she'd already realized that she didn't know at all. "That's great, Em."

"Yeah, I know", Emily rapidly tried to finally cut in. "I should've told you. But we haven't talked in ages and, you know…"

Life got in the way.

The explanation was mainly directed to Spencer, though. She was a little worried about how Spencer was going to take it, considering her past spirit of competition against all previous girlfriends and romantic interests.

"I'm so glad for you two." She looked at Spencer again, now with more interest than before. "Spencer, I didn't know you were into girls."

Maya had always been pretty outspoken, and Emily used to both love and fear that quality. It was funny that, right now, she just wanted her to shut up and disappear from their sight.

"That's because I wasn't", Spencer explained, a little taken aback by the comment but nice nonetheless. "But I am now. Funny."

"Yeah, life's funny like that", Maya agreed, with a look of complicity.

"I forced her into it. With my magical powers of gay-conversion", Emily blurted out, feeling her joke was completely inadequate. Hanna seemed to be dominating her spirit, and she'd gone from being sort of inarticulate to trying to be funny, but she felt she'd only achieved to make an ass of herself.

Maya laughed a little with her eyes, but Spencer didn't utter a sound and seemed a little surprised at her words.

However, Emily kept her ever-so-sweet smile on her face, acting as if she wasn't really hating the moment. Which she was.

She totally was.

"You make a really cute couple", Maya concluded, and she sounded perfectly honest. "The two sporty ones. Should've seen it coming."

"I think Em's a little sportier than me", Spencer argued, finding the comment interesting. She had actually never thought of the two of them like that and, as much as she enjoyed sports, she'd always recognized Emily's superiority when it came to them and particularly to swimming.

"You think?" Maya asked. "The way she used to speak about you, I think she thinks the opposite".

Emily thought she thought the situation was thoughtlessly heading to more awkwardness, and she missed Hanna so much, because Hanna, at least, managed to be funny when she said crazy things. "I don't think anything", she said, "except that we obviously make a totally cute couple."

She hoped that would settle it, and the universe finally lent her a hand, because this time Maya did laugh and she felt Spencer relax by her side too.

"So are you seeing someone?" Spencer asked, sounding as if she had  _now_  the right to ask.

"Yeah, I am, but she's not here today", Maya answered, looking mainly at Spencer. "I wish she were so I could introduce her to you guys."

"Yeah, that's too bad", Spencer responded, and Emily suddenly felt the terrible fear that this conversation would go on and on forever and that she would have to keep on saying really the most absurd things she'd come up with until she'd be finally left alone with Spencer again.

But, thankfully, she was wrong. Maya had somewhere to go and, even though it took some more weirdness out of all of them to say goodbye and wish everybody the best and promise calls that would probably never be made, the situation was soon over.

When they finally lost sight of Maya, Spencer turned around to face the stand with the necklaces again, the green-shaded one still between her fingers.

"Okay, that was awkward."

Emily turned around too. "I  _know_. How many chances of running into two exes in two days are there in the universe?"

Spencer looked at her briefly as if that wasn't really the most awkward thing of all, but she didn't say that when she opened her mouth. "Three days", she corrected. They'd seen Toby on Thursday. Then she looked back at the necklace. "So which one are you taking?"

Emily decided to take the green one, if only to make Spencer happy. She had the suspicion that she was going to need to make up for this somehow, even though nothing had really happened. She was glad she'd seen Maya. She always liked Maya. She just wasn't glad at all that she'd completely forgotten to tell Maya about dating Spencer, not because of Maya (she'd given that up a long time ago) but because of Spencer. But Spencer seemed to be fine. Still she got the green necklace and they decided to go to the bookstores Spencer was so eager to show her. They walked there slowly, talking about different things, none of them related to Maya or to any other ex. Well, Spencer talked; Emily just listened and closely watched Spencer's features as she explained the different styles of colonial architecture that you could find in Pennsylvania's houses, and then proceeded to explain the different locations of the bookstores she wanted to show her, because one of them was specialized on History books, and had quite an ample selection on old Roman History (did she say Roman or Russian?), and the other one, where she'd gotten the Carson McCullers' 1943 edition for her, was focused on English literature, and had some really pricey, extraordinary stuff, although there was also a section dedicated to French poetry, which you could read in French, if you knew how to speak French, which Spencer knew, although not well enough as to read poetry yet. She explained all these things to her while they walked, and Emily listened patiently, eagerly, more interested in whatever she could get from Spencer than in the information provided itself. After a long, nice walk, they arrived to the first bookstore, the History one, and when they crossed the entrance they entered a world made entirely of wooden bookshelves and books, where the smell of old paper invaded both of their nostrils. Spencer explained how much she loved that smell, and Emily listened, thinking about how much she loved Spencer while she talked, even if she didn't really get to say anything particularly important.

Still, there was something that wasn't quite fine. She let her talk and talk and talk, and in every little thing she said there was nothing personal. There was not a lot of eye contact between them, and that was definitely strange, given their current situation. So, after a while of listening to Spencer's explanations on Roman History (it was Roman, after all) and of studying the different changes and variations of her tones and expressions, Emily reached a conclusion. She'd screwed up. Not big time, because it wasn't that important. But she needed to say something about it before it came back in the form of a Mayan boomerang if they ever got into a fight again.

She reached for Spencer's hand and took it in hers.

"Can you look at me for a second?"

Spencer was currently trying to reach one of the bookshelves to show her whatever famous classic (Emily had already stopped paying attention when she'd decided she needed to talk), but she stopped and returned the look obediently, albeit clearly surprised she'd been interrupted.

"What's wrong?"

Emily pulled her closer. "I'm sorry I didn't tell Maya about us. Are you pissed at me?"

Spencer's eyes opened a little, but she didn't give much away. "No", she responded. "It's fine."

"Then why aren't you looking at me?"

"I'm looking at you", Spencer said in a really low tone, almost as if they were inside the library.

"Just because I asked you to", Emily replied, whispering too. They stared at each other, and Emily wondered if she should really offer an explanation or if she should just let it go.

Finally it was Spencer who gave up, and her features softened a bit. "I'm not pissed, really. It's okay. You haven't talked to her in a long time."

"I wanted to call her and tell her, I just didn't do it because I got distracted thinking about you all the time."

A little smile came to Spencer's lips. "Are you sure that's the only reason?"

"Pretty much, yeah. It is."

She'd really spent most of the last two months thinking only about Spencer, with a very small portion of her brain dedicated to the final exams, to Hanna, Aria, and finally to A.

"You weren't afraid of telling her you were with me?"

"Why would I be afraid of that?" Emily asked, knowing this was where she was directed when she'd decided to scratch under the surface of Spencer's lengthy historical explanations. "You do remember I cut it off with Maya because I liked you, right?"

"Yeah", Spencer remembered perfectly. They had talked about it before. "Don't you think she was a little shocked when we told her?"

"Not really. I think she took it pretty well."

"Maybe she still had hopes."

"I don't think so", Emily responded. "I didn't tell her I was dating you, but I think she got the message that I wasn't interested in getting back together pretty clearly."

"Yeah, maybe", Spencer conceded. "Maybe she was just confused. I mean, you called her and then you stopped calling her."

That touched Emily's bad conscience a little. Only a little. "What do you care anyway?"

"I don't."

It was Emily's cue and she took it: she approached Spencer a little, until both of their breaths came together in the same respiration. The coast was clear inside the bookstore at that precise moment and she took advantage: she leaned in just some millimetres, closing the distance till their lips connected. That was pretty much all it was needed, because Spencer reacted instantly to the contact and she opened her mouth, making the kiss more intimate.

By the time they broke it off, Spencer had totally softened and was again the same person she was with her before running into Maya. So the second ghost of summer had been sent its way to heaven, away from them. Emily would always have a great memory of Maya, but she had no wish whatsoever to replay Maya's theme between them. It'd already been a headache for her when she was struggling with her feelings for Spencer, and she knew she couldn't really be Maya's friend. Or didn't really wish to be Maya's friend at the moment, in any case.

And it wasn't like it was a possibility anyway. It was the past. Now this was the present, and the future, and the time after the future if that even existed.

"So what did you use to say to her about me?" Spencer asked, her fingers now intertwined with Emily's.

She was always curious as to what Emily thought or said about their friendship when they were only friends. Maya's comment had only increased that curiosity.

"That you loved yourself a little competition. I guess that's what she meant by that."

"Hmmmmm. Only that?"

"I don't remember everything I ever told her."

She did remember telling Maya about her friends, and specifically about Spencer's intense competitive spirit, and about how her family had shaped that personality. But she didn't really want to get into that.

"Well, you should have better memory, because I wanna know."

"I probably told her I had a crush on you and I loved you hopelessly and wanted to get in your pants but could never do it because you were the straightest person I ever knew", she teased, laughing at the way Spencer seemed so bemused at her first words until she caught the meaning of it all. "Happy?"

"Unhappy", she answered, frowning a little at her. "You never had a crush on me until, like, three days before you kissed me."

"That's not exactly true."

They kissed again, happy to find out that old bookstores were quite deserted places.

They took another walk to the second bookstore, the literature one. They repeated the same operations: Spencer talked, Emily listened, and they kissed in the corners when no one was around. Then they went out, their new objective to find a nice little place where they could maybe keep kissing without being observed. They were in the process of looking while they talked when a guy approached them from behind. He politely touched Emily's shoulder with his hand, and Emily turned around hoping it wouldn't be Maya again, and innerly cursing the way people tended to get in the way sometimes, when all you wanted to do was shut the world out. But it was a young guy, not Maya. He looked a little older than them, and he was holding a camera in his other hand. With both a smile and an accent Emily didn't recognize, he asked to have his picture taken, and Emily saw then that he belonged to a larger group of guys. Five or six. So she took the camera in her hands and smiled, approaching them. She took a couple of pictures of the group. She wasn't a very good photographer, so she hoped she hadn't screwed the pictures for them, but her main objective was to keep the guys from actually getting closer to Spencer, so she didn't really care how the photos turned out.

The same dark, tall guy walked back to her and gave her what wanted to be a seductive smile. He was kind of handsome, from an objective point of view. She offered him the camera back, but he didn't take it.

"Thank you", he said, with the same accent she didn't recognize. Maybe Spencer did. "Can I ask you something else?"

Emily smiled, cursing the world inside her own head again.

"Do you mind if we take a picture with you?", the guy asked. Clearly he was the cheekiest one of the group and had been sent out on a mission. "You're very pretty."

Oh, not that line. It was so lame.

"Thanks", Emily responded. "But I'm not really picture-friendly", she lied.

"We're nice guys", the guy tried, insisting on his charm. "We're not psycho-killers".

She offered another smile. It'd been so long since she'd been hit on by a boy that she'd almost forgotten about the kind of conversation it required. "I'm sure you're great, but I'm in a hurry, sorry." She gave back the camera, this time more decisively.

"And your friend? Maybe she wants to take a picture with us".

Oh, he'd better not go there at all.

"She's not my friend, she's my girlfriend". This time she did sound kind of sharp, hoping that would actually send him away. "And she's not picture-friendly either."

He seemed to take a moment to take the information in.

"Are you sure?"

That was probably the dumbest question she'd ever been asked, but she tried not to show.

"Don't you want to ask her?", he insisted again. Clearly the guy was not getting the idea.

"I don't have to ask her, I know", she said, already feeling rude.

She felt Spencer behind her, and the guy looked over her shoulder to look at her.

"I also hate to have my picture taken, but thank you. And goodbye", Spencer said, a distinctive tone of mock in her voice.

This time the guy seemed to consider trying again, but decided against it and ran off to his friends, who received him in a masculine huff of support spoken in another language she couldn't decipher either. They'd have to try with other girls.

Spencer looked at her mockingly, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

"What was that?"

"They wanted to take a picture with us."

"I mean the mean attitude", Spencer clarified, a half smile on her lips.

Emily considered the comment. "You think I was too rude?" She was already feeling a little guilty about blowing the guy off like that. Maybe she could've used kinder, gentler methods to send them away. But that'd taken more time too.

"You weren't rude", Spencer said. "I'm just not used to you being mean. This is gonna sound bad, but I actually find it really sexy."

Emily smirked. "I'll try to be mean more often then."

"Only to other people, not to me."

"Noted", she laughed. "Especially to guys trying to approach you."

"Yeah, the whole  _she is my girlfriend, leave her alone_  thing." Spencer imitated a grave, masculine tone which didn't sound like Emily at all. "But, in case you didn't get it, the guy was trying to approach  _you_.  _Oh, you're so pretty, come with us_ ". This time she used a high tone of voice which didn't sound at all like the guy either. She seemed to be mixing the tones up on purpose.

"He was gonna try to get you. I couldn't let that happen."

"Whoa, scary", Spencer laughed harder now. "I'm actually enjoying this jealous side of you, you show it so little."

"I better not have to show it a lot", Emily warned, smiling. They started walking again, but Emily stopped for a second. "Do you think I get too defensive with boys?"

Suddenly she thought she didn't have male friends. Only Toby, and that was way over. Maybe she should try to befriend Caleb. She got along well with him, but he wasn't her friend. And there was no way she was going to become Mr. Fitz's friend, either.

"No", Spencer answered her question, a little confused. "Why? Do you feel defensive with them?"

"Only when you're around."

Spencer raised her brows again. "Oh, so it's my fault now?"

"It's always your fault", Emily smirked, and continued her walk, grabbing Spencer's hand.

They spent the rest of the day walking around and stopping in every corner, until they went back to Rosewood when it was starting to get dark. When Emily left the car and got inside the Marins' house, she checked her phone. She had two texts. One was from her mom. The other one was from A.

" _First mistake. How cute of you to start like this. I am counting_. – A"

Did A talk about Maya or about some other thing?

In any case, it seemed like another bulshitting, annoying text. Maybe A was losing his/her/its mind after all.

 


	4. The Artist Formerly Known As Spencer Hastings

"But this is pure bullshit, Hanna."

Spencer took Emily's phone from Hanna's hands and gave it back to Emily. The four friends had decided to meet in the park to take advantage of the sunny, dense summery days before Emily and Spencer flew to Texas, and were discussing A's latest attempt to stir a sense of doubt and fear in them, particularly in Emily; although Emily seemed to be, right now, unaffected by the texts she was getting.

"I know that, Spencer. I'm the queen of this-is-bullshit, okay?", Hanna replied. "That's what I always tell Em, but we need to start doing something about it. I'm getting weird texts too."

Hanna had gotten another bullshitting text from A asking her if she really knew who her true friends were. Apparently, A was in psycho-bubble mode. Maybe he/she/it had learned it from Dr. Sullivan. Maybe it  _was_  Dr. Sullivan after all. Who knew?

"But it doesn't say anything", Emily argued, looking at Hanna. "And neither does yours."

She agreed with Hanna in that they couldn't really forget about A, but she didn't really see the way these texts could mean any real threat to them. Hers only said A was counting her mistakes. And Hanna's only said they were not her true friends, which was such a gross, obvious attempt at trying to separate them that it almost made them laugh.

"You can't tell me you're starting to believe what A says", Spencer accused, though, getting into full-on hostile mode. "Especially not this. It's completely ridiculous."

Hanna rolled her eyes. When Spencer didn't want to understand something, she became an oyster shell, uncrackable and unreachable. Or maybe more of a jellyfish. If you touched her she poisoned you with her tentacles. Yuck. Hanna felt sorry for Emily sometimes.

"Guys, A's only trying to plant a seed in Em's and Hanna's head", Aria tried to explain. "You can't let it grow there. Like in that movie,  _Inception_. You know."

The three of them looked at Aria in disbelief. Only Spencer had seen  _Inception_  and she could barely remember much of it, although she could swear they were not planting seeds in anyone's head, only weird ideas and parallel universes. Maybe it wasn't such a bad metaphor after all.

"I hope it's a marijuana seed", Hanna sarcastically replied, "because we could use it now." Then she looked back at Spencer, continuing their discussion. "If I were starting to believe what A says, do you think I'd be here talking to you about it?" She leaned across the picnic table around which they were sitting. "No, I'd be hanging out with Mona or with Lucas or flying to California to grab Caleb's ass, or with those girls over there." She pointed to a group of girls who were sitting on the grass, enjoying the sun. They were dressed in black, even though it was summer, and that seemed a good enough reason to doubt Hannah would ever hang out with them. "All I'm saying is that we need your brain back. Now, I don't really mean to go and mess up your big love romantic sexy porny story out there, but can you at least  _try_  to think what A's next move is gonna be?"

Spencer leaned back on the bench, feeling both flattered and annoyed at Hanna's recognition that her brain was really the best brain ever to think of A's moves and motives. Sadly, she knew she'd really not been paying a lot of attention to A in the last moth. She had other things on her mind. And A was kind of not there lately.

"I can't do any detective work right now." This time Spencer's tone was less belligerent. "I'm flying to Texas next week and I really need to focus on that".

Hanna sighed, feeling helpless to make her point across. She did understand why it was easy to forget about A now. But they needed Spencer to figure out what was going to happen, because something was surely going to happen next. And she was never good to come up with plans that didn't involve slapping Jenna. As for Aria, she had enough problems of her own now that she'd come out to her parents about her illegal relationship with Mr. Fitz. And it wasn't like she could ever actually think of anything else but Mr. Fitz anyway. In Emily's case, she had the same problem Spencer had. They were only thinking about new ways to undress each other. And she totally got that, but they needed to realize that, if they were a power couple now, they needed to exercise that power against A instead of only in bed. Or wherever they were exercising it. She didn't really know what they were doing or how far they'd gone.

And here she thought she'd never be missing Spencer's bossy ways.

"Hanna's right, Spencer", Aria intervened again, conciliatory. "A's not sending these texts just to mess up our heads. We can't forget A's the one who killed Alison."

"And the one who killed Ian.  _Twice_ ", Hanna added. "And Dr. Sullivan. And you still have to go to court when you come back from Texas."

A shiver of fear made Emily tremble at the thought. It was the second court hearing Spencer had to face.

"We don't know if Dr. Sullivan's dead", Spencer replied, although she did feel a shock of fear too, when she remembered Ian's double death some months ago. "Anyway my mom got me out the first time and she'll get me out the second time. They don't have anything on me."

It really seemed like the police investigation against her was losing force as time passed. Probably because, once again,  _she had not done a thing_ against Dr. Sullivan, except try to clue her in their tragedy.

"Whatever. If you don't get it, you don't get it", Hanna grumpily said. "Just keep thinking about butterflies and bees and the real color of the clouds until you're put in jail."

Spencer rolled her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean what you're hearing", Hanna shot back. They stared at each other for a long moment, in defiance, until Hanna decided to take a step back. "It means you should stop thinking about Em's boobs for at least a second and try to come up with a plan for us."

"Why am I the one who has to come up with a plan?" She decided to ignore the comment about Emily's boobs. "Can't you guys think without me?"

"No, not really", Aria said, resigned. They  _did_ need a plan. "Maybe we could… I don't know, talk to Toby? He could do some snooping for us with Jenna."

"No way", Spencer cut in. "Toby's out of this. He totally hates my guts and I doubt he'll ever trust any of you." She stole a quick glance at Emily, who looked back at her in reassurance.

"What about Emily?", Aria suggested. "Everyone loves her, and Toby used to…"

"Yeah, I'm sure he won't mind that I'm dating his girlfriend now, Aria." Emily said with slight sarcasm. She tried to think harder about what to do. "Why don't we go back to point zero again?"

"Point zero", Hanna repeated, blankly. "Meaning what exactly? We can't blind Jenna again."

"We can go back to Jason. That's Ali's house. And he had all these creepy stuff about Aria, and…"

They all looked at her as if the idea really made at least some sense.

"Okay, I see that", Hanna agreed. "When are we going?"

"We'll go when I'm back from Texas. I'll take Aria with me.", Spencer thought aloud. It wasn't such a bad idea after all. She had a feeling Jason DiLaurentiis' house was the key to it all.

"Me?"

"Aria?" Emily's question came out simultaneously with Aria's. "You're not taking me?"

Spencer looked back somewhat sheepishly at Emily. "You're staying in Texas for one more week. That's the only reason."

"You're not going there on your own without me", Emily warned, and this time she was the one who leant across the wooden picnic table to face Spencer.

"Hey, she won't be on her own", Aria protested. "I'll be with her."

"And I'll be there too", Emily sternly insisted. "No offense, Aria, but it's just not the same. You don't even know if your parents will let you out."

Aria was currently on lockdown since Mr. Fitz and she had come out to her parents. She'd been allowed out today because Spencer had made the most sincere promise that they'd be at the park alone and that she'd personally return Aria to her house by 5.

"Em!", Aria protested again, this time taking it as a real offense. "That's not fair. I'm pretty sure I can…"

"She kind of has a point, Aria", Hanna asserted. Then she turned to look at Spencer again. "Why don't you take  _me_?"

"Because you can't even walk out of your house without your heels?", Spencer said, matter-of-factly. Hanna was always her last asset when it came to their sleuthing activities, after Emily and Aria.

"She's not taking any of you", Emily abruptly interrupted. "She's taking  _me_. When I'm back. That's the end of the story."

They all stayed in silence for a moment, but it was Hanna who decided to speak again.

"Okay, do you think you can discuss your marital problems in private? Without insulting us?" Hanna turned to look at Emily this time, and even though her tone was acid, she seemed much more relaxed now. At least she'd gotten Spencer and Emily to get back in track with the A thing. "We'll just plan the visit to Jason's when Spencer's back.  _That's_  the end of the story. And I mean it, Em. Instead of de-bossing Spencer you're just becoming a freak like her."

"Hey, that's not true", Emily complained. "I just don't want her to get into trouble."

Well, maybe she  _was_  becoming a little of a control freak lately. But it was only because her current job consisted in taking care of Spencer, and Spencer tended to do reckless things when it came to A, and she wasn't going to allow her to do any sort of dangerous activity while she was far away in another state. At least, when she was here, she could kind of keep her from getting murdered or apprehended by the police or attacked by some in-law family psycho.

So, yes, she  _was_  becoming a little too controlling. But she had reasons for it.

"All right. That's what we'll do", Spencer settled, taking a sip of her iced coffee.

As cute as Emily was about her safety, they shouldn't really wait until Emily came back from Texas to work on their plan against A.

"Although I still don't know why we can't do it  _this week_ ", Hanna tried again. "The sooner the better."

Spencer looked at her in desperation.

"I can't do anything this week. I'm preparing for the trip to Texas."

"You're going to Texas, Spencer, not to Afghanistan on a UN mission", Aria said, still resenting the way they had all disregarded her snooping presence.

"Right, Spencer", Hanna supported Aria this time. "It's not like Mrs. Fields's going to send you to Juvie Camp just because you got a B back in second grade."

Spencer dedicated a wide, sarcastic smile to both of them. "It may not be Afghanistan, but it's an important trip and I  _have_  to be perfect."

She gave a sideways glance to Emily, who had now an amused look on her face.

"You're perfect already", Aria replied. "If it were me or Hanna we'd be screwed. We're the  _problematic_  kids, but you're Ms. Spencer Hastings, the most perfect product of natural evolution."

"That she is", Emily said, trying to send a good vibe to Aria after the small argument they had had about A.

"I don't know what you're saying, Aria. Mrs. Fields totally loves me", Hanna joked, but her tone was half-serious. "She'd love to have me as her daughter's love interest. Right, Em?"

"She loves all of you", Emily tried to mediate. "You're all perfect and she totally accepts my gayness now".

"It's different to accept your gayness in the distance than to see it right in front of her face", Spencer calmly stated, thoughtfully looking at her coffee cup. "And that's why I have to be perfect for real. Not just in name." She smiled coyly at all of them, in truth trying to give herself encouragement.

She'd decided she wouldn't kiss or touch Emily at all during their stay in Texas. She couldn't risk making the Fields uncomfortable.

"You're perfect for real, Spence", Emily sweetly reassured. "Just don't worry about it."

"We both know that's not entirely true."

"Oh my god, is Spencer actually admitting to not being perfect?", Hannah asked, feigning astonishment. "Is she human? Is she a plane? Is she a bird? No, it's Spencer Hastings terrified of Emily's mom!"

Spencer sent a look to Hanna that said it all. "What in hell are you saying now?"

"Lucas made me watch  _Superman_  on TV", Hanna answered. "You know, Superman. The guy with the red underwear. Maybe you could wear that to Texas. But you should actually wear it under your dress, not over it. Are you wearing a lot of dresses there?"

"I could go with the red underwear, yeah", Emily smirked, looking at Spencer. Red looked good on Spencer.  _Anything_  looked good on Spencer. Except that feathered belt she bought some days ago. She was already convincing her to actually give it to Aria.

But Spencer didn't return her glance this time. She seemed to be really worried about the visit to Texas.

"I  _am_  bringing a lot of dresses, yeah. But not slutty ones. Just, you know, decent ones."

"You don't have slutty dresses, Spencer", Aria said, back to her candid, reassuring self.

"I'm just going to be as decent as I can possibly be. Which is a lot, actually, if I work on it."

"Whoa, Emily, I'm sorry for you", Hanna exclaimed, looking at Emily. "You're not going to see a lot of Spencer while you're in Texas. She's putting the chastity belt on."

"Yeah, we'll see how long she can keep it", Emily replied, still looking a little mischievous.

"I'll keep it for as long as we stay there. I know you think I don't know how to behave, but I do when I  _really_  want to."

"And what does behaving mean to you in this kind of situation?", Emily asked, curious.

"You know. No kissing. No touching. No…"

"No kissing  _at all_?"

"Yeah. I don't wanna get caught."

Emily opened her eyes widely in surprise.

"I'm not gonna risk it", Spencer continued. "Aria's right. Your mom has a good image of me and I'm not gonna risk that. We'll kiss when we're back."

"Are you listening to yourself?"

"I actually am", Spencer responded, looking completely convinced of her words. She'd thought a lot about this. "Am I getting this wrong? Because  _you_ are the person who refuses to kiss or do anything at all in front of my parents."

Apparently, this was a touchy subject, and both Aria and Hanna felt as if they were observing a tennis ball go back and forth between Spencer and Emily.

"I'm not talking about kissing  _in front_   _of_  them", Emily explained. Of course they were not going to  _kiss_  while her parents were in the same room. Just when they were  _not_. "I'm talking about kissing when they're not there."

"But they're gonna be there all the time", Spencer argued her point. She'd really given it a lot of thought and she knew Emily's parents had not seen her a lot lately and were dying to spend time with her now. "And we're not gonna have a car there to, you know, get away. And we don't know the place. And there's just no way we're gonna make out with them around. No way."

Emily opened her mouth in surprise, then closed it again. It seemed her own fears of misbehaving in front of the Hastings' had backfired at her. Maybe it was karma. Maybe it was revenge. Maybe it was just bad luck, or logic, or fate, or nature. Whatever it was, she didn't like it at all.

There was  _no way_  she could be living during four days in the same house with Spencer without sharing a single kiss. No way. Not now.

She'd have to find a way to make Spencer waver.

"Hello? We're still here", Hanna called them out. "Maybe you could discuss your married couple status later?"

Hanna's comment seemed to have the desired effect, because Emily actually decided to shut up and fight that battle when they were alone.

"I always knew you'd be so super cute together", Aria dreamily said. "The Fields are totally going to adore you, Spence." Then she faced Hanna. "Han, you think they'll ever get married?"

"If we ever go to New York and not to Texas, we might", Spencer responded instead of Hanna.

"I'm already planning on the dress", Hanna joked. "I'm gonna be Em's maid of honor."

"Why do you get to be Em's? Shouldn't we, like, toss a coin or something?"

"Is there an actual reason why no one wants to be  _my_  maid of honour?", Spencer asked, sort of surprised. "I thought you were supposed to be my friends as well."

"It's natural selection, Spencer", Hanna explained.

"You don't even know what natural selection is", Spencer shot back.

"Sure I do. It means that I'm getting to be Em's maid of honor because if I were yours, I'd end up killing you and you wouldn't get the chance to get married and reproduce", Hanna explained her own theory of natural selection. It was one of the few things she remembered from her Biology class. "But Aria's a nice person who puts up with you, so she should be your maid."

"Aria  _loves_  me. She doesn't put up with me."

"I do love you. And I also put up with you. Everybody does."

"See that? It makes total sense", Hanna said happily. " _I_  get Em, you get Spencer."

"What if they ever break up?", Aria asked, stopping to think about that for a moment. "Does this mean we also have to split like that?"

"We're never gonna break up", Spencer cut in, totally serious. "That's not gonna happen."

"If they ever break up, we'll have to choose too", Hanna continued Aria's joke. "It's like a divorce. We get to choose between mom and dad."

"I don't even wanna know who dad is", Emily suddenly said, feeling again like she was always left behind when Hanna and Spencer dominated the conversation.

Hanna turned her head towards Emily like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Spencer's dad. I mean, come on."

Spencer frowned a little, however. "What? Nobody wants to be my maid of honor and now  _I'm_  dad? Why?"

"Do I really need to explain?", Hanna teased. Yes, she needed to explain because everybody was looking at her like the matter required some sort of explanation. "You're always bossing everybody around. Your tone of voice is grave." Spencer gave a very clear, explicit eye-roll that indicated that wasn't enough of a reason. Besides, her voice was sexy. Or so Emily said. "And you wear plaid all the time."

"Em's wearing plaid lately too", Aria gave her own contribution to the discussion.

"That's Spencer's fault."

"It's not. I bought that shirt months ago", Emily protested. She liked wearing plaid too. And she loved Spencer's plaid shirts. She looked so sexy in them.

Then again she looked sexy on anything she wore.

"It doesn't matter. She's dad. You're mom."

Emily wasn't happy at all with that result. And it was tiring to face the same joke about Spencer's plaid shirts over and over and over again. So she decided to throw a bone at Hanna. And she knew she'd bite it like a dog.

"If I were you, I wouldn't make so many assumptions", Emily enigmatically said, talking in Hanna's direction but keeping an eye on Spencer at the same time. "You might be surprised."

Aria's jaw dropped a little at the comment, and Hanna's eyes shone brightly as if she'd been given a riddle she could actually decipher easily.

"Okay, maybe that's a little bit of information we didn't really need to know", Aria said, starting to imagine things she really didn't want to have in her head.

"What are you saying? We  _need_  to know. I need to know", Hanna joked, her eyes still shining. "So  _you_  are dad".

Oh, come on, this conversation was quickly becoming more and more absurd. And it was her own fault, Emily thought, because she was the one who threw the bone.

But she wasn't going to let Hanna get away with the joke on Spencer. Now that she'd managed to close their mouths (or at least Aria's, although poor Aria hadn't really said much), she could nicely close it off and leave it to rest.

"No one's dad. And no one's mom", Emily smirked, feeling like she was finally concentrating all the attention. "We're too young to be parenting."

She caught a glimpse of Spencer's smile at her words.

"You're so obviously trying to confuse us now", Hanna insisted. The bad thing about Hanna was that, once you started a joke, or a version of another joke she'd been the one to start, she wouldn't really let you close it so easily. "This is getting really interesting. But we need some more details to actually make up our mind, you know. So just give us something to work on."

"You're not gonna get any information, Hanna", Emily answered, confidently. "And if we ever break up, we'll still keep both of you as friends. Although that's never gonna happen."

"Yeah, we'll still all be friends", Aria agreed. "At least until Em gets a new girlfriend and Spencer kills her and goes to jail for real this time."

"Oh, yeah, new girlfriend. Spencer'd totally freak out with that", Hanna commented.

Spencer lifted her eyes from her coffee to look at Hanna.

"That's not gonna happen", Spencer repeated the same words she'd said before. "She's not getting any new girlfriend. Ever."

"And what would you get, Spence?", Aria curiously asked, turning to look at Spencer, who was sitting by her side on the bench. "If it ever happened, would you get a new girlfriend or a new boyfriend?"

"Yeah, Spence", Hanna dedicated her attention to Spencer too. "What are you now? Do you consider yourself to be totally gay now? Or are you bi? Or bi-curious?"

"I think she's way past the curiosity state", Emily intervened.

Spencer sent a glance to all of them, indicating she was getting bored of this joke. Sexual identity topics bored her to death, actually. She just never understood why they were so important. You were what you did. You were defined by your actions. You were kissing a girl, then you were as gay as the next gay person. But that didn't mean anything else than that.

Still she decided to answer. "I'm gay because I'm with Emily", she said, following her own rules of logic. "But I don't consider myself anything at all. As long as I'm me it works fine."

She couldn't care less about definitions.

She only cared about herself. About feeling like she was her own person. About being happy. Which she was now, totally and completely and happily gay.

"Translation, Em", Hanna demanded.

"She's bisexual", Emily translated, gaining a resentful look from Spencer.

"So do you think she'd go back to guys or would she stick to girls if you ever broke up?", Aria asked again, this time directing the question to Emily.

"I'm pretty sure she'll go back to guys when we break up", Emily responded.

Spencer shot her a very direct, cutting-edge look now. "Why are you so sure?"

"Just because", Emily tried to explain. "You've always been with guys and you hardly look at other girls, so I just think you'd go back to guys if we weren't together anymore."

"Oh, that's interesting. Because last time I looked at you, you were still a girl. And I seem to be looking at you all the time."

Spencer's tone was a little too sharp, but Emily couldn't totally decide if she was just trying to be sarcastic or if she was a little annoyed at her for answering Aria's question.

"She's right, Emily", Aria supported Spencer, even though it'd been Aria who had started the trouble. "She doesn't look at other girls because she's looking at you. She has a point. A cute one."

"Yeah, I know." Emily was starting to feel like she'd gotten herself in a really big mess. Ever since she was happy and lightheaded there were a lot of dumb, stupid things that were coming out of her mouth. Maybe she should go back to being the silent type. "I don't know for sure. I'm just saying that's what I think it'd happen."

She felt like she was shrinking in her seat.

"I think Em just wants to be special." Hanna tried to give her a hand, but maybe a hand from Hanna was not the hand she needed right now. "Like the only girl Spencer's ever looked at, you know? Right, Em?"

"Maybe."

"So would you prefer to be the only girl she's been with?", Aria continued the interrogation and Emily wished they would just shut up already. "Like, would you still prefer to be an anomaly in her life, like a special moment for her?"

"Like the one hot girl she banged before going back to leg hair and penises?", Hanna contributed.

Thank you, Hanna, Emily thought to herself.

"I…" Get out of this mess. Get out of this mess. "I don't want her to be with any other girl. Or with anyone else at all. I know it sounds bad. I just… I do prefer to feel special, yeah."

She knew she was stuttering over her own words and she knew they could all see it. And she felt Spencer's eyes on her with a special intensity.

And it was the  _bad_  kind of intensity, not the really good one.

"You  _are_  special", Spencer stated, and her stare was now even more cutting than her voice was sharp. "You're already special no matter if I ever go back to a guy or if I go to a girl. You'll always be special. You'll always be you."

"I know that." Okay, she hadn't escaped the mess. She had gotten herself deeper into it. She felt like one of those flies that got trapped in a spider web and couldn't really get out as much as they batted their little, disgusting wings. "I know I'm special. And anyway it's never ever gonna happen."

But it was already too late. She was batting her wings helplessly.

"Then why're you so sure I'm going back to boys if we ever break up?'", Spencer asked her. "Is that why you're defensive with boys? Because you think I'm gonna go back to them?"

Oh, the Mayan boomerang was not Mayan. It was the I-get-defensive-with-boys boomerang. With a little help from her friends.

Emily lost her voice.

There was a silence in the table because Hanna and Aria had also suddenly, and finally, realized this was not a joke for Spencer anymore.

"No", Emily tried to recover her voice. "No, it's not that. I just… I'm not  _so_  sure about anything. I'm just saying if we break up I don't really want to see you with another girl. I know it sounds stupid and selfish."

"It does sound stupid", Spencer said. "Because I don't want to see you with  _anyone_ , boy, girl, or dog."

The silence got thicker and tenser as Emily tried to look for a way to make the situation less dense. But she couldn't come up with any other answer. She  _had_  been joking. She  _had_  been answering Hanna's and Aria's mocking questions.

It wasn't as if they were ever going to break up. Although people broke up all the time. But that wasn't going to happen to  _them_. Right?

At least if she managed to stop saying stupid things.

Spencer looked down at her coffee cup and suddenly decided to stand up. "I'm gonna get another iced coffee. Does anyone want something else?"

Aria denied with her head, but Hanna opened her mouth. "Another diet coke, please?"

And with that, Spencer started walking away from the picnic table, while Emily was still trying to reach for some kind of magic verbal formula that would restore the good vibe between Spencer and her.

"She's pissed", Hanna said when Spencer was already far enough.

"I know", Emily acknowledged, looking at Spencer walk away in the distance. "What did I say?"

Hanna looked at her as if she needed to be taught a lesson. "Okay, dad, let me tell you a couple of things about girls. Or at least about Spencer. You said  _when_  and not  _if_. You don't say that to a person who's crazily in love with you. You don't mention a break-up like it's actually possible. You act as if the world were just the most perfect place and nobody ever broke up at all and that were the farthest possible thing on your mind."

"But it  _is_  the farthest thing on my mind!", Emily defended herself. "It was you guys.  _You_  were joking about it. It's your fault!"

"Exactly, it's us.  _We_  can joke about it. You can't."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

"I wasn't even joking. I was answering  _your_  stupid questions!"

"Han's right, Em", Aria advised, looking a little worried. "And one more thing. She doesn't want you talking about going back to guys. She's probably wondering why you're so sure that's ever gonna happen. I mean,  _I_ 'm wondering about it and I'm not even your girlfriend."

"But I already said I'm not so sure. I haven't really thought about it. I don't think about breaking up!"

Hanna looked at her with one of her wise, profoundly blue-green understanding looks.

"Why are you still here?", Hanna asked. "Go say the magic words."

Emily turned her head to try to discern Spencer's figure in the distance, but she couldn't see her anymore. What were the magic words? She had already said the magic words. And she had mixed them up with some totally damaging, thoughtless comments about going back to men and about not having other girlfriends.

And she had said  _when_. But it'd been a single mistake. She hadn't even realized!

She got up, shot Hanna and Aria a resentful look, because it was  _their_  fault, and started trotting towards the kiosk where Spencer had gone to get more drinks.

The only thing she missed about Ben was the fact that she never got into this kind of trouble with him. She didn't really  _need_  to say anything to him. She could just kiss him and he'd be fine. He was that easy.

You didn't get into stupid arguments about impossible break-ups with a boyfriend.

Of course, that was about the  _only_  thing that was good about dating Ben. Or a boyfriend. There were a million good things about dating a girl. And there were about a trimillion or a billion things that were good about dating Spencer. Starting with the fact that it was Spencer.

What was she going to say when she found her? That she was sorry? But this was so stupid! It sounded also stupid to apologize for something as stupid as this. Everything was stupid now.  _She_  was stupid.

Her phone buzzed in her pocked.

Great. That was just what she needed. She retrieved her phone and she read A's text while she steadily, firmly walked.

" _Told ya! How many more do you think Little Miss Perfect will take before snapping?_  – A"

"Shit", she mumbled to herself while she started to almost run. She passed a family with children who were playing with a ball. A little girl threw the ball at her. Not now, little girl, not now. She was in a hurry to somehow apologize to her girlfriend for being a total jerk. Still she had to stop and pick up the ball to give it back to her. You can't say no to a child.

Was this love?

Was love all about saying silly things that sometimes made you laugh and sometimes made you apologize?

Apparently, it was.

She was happy. Love was happy. And love equalled running in a park to get your girlfriend back when she was pissed at you.

Like in the movies.

Only dumber than that. And without the corny, cheesy music.

She was thinking all these deep reflections on love and happiness and silliness when she saw Spencer's slender figure in the kiosk, her back turned to her. She was wearing a ponytail, and her neck was bare the way Emily absolutely adored whenever she saw her from behind. She seemed to be waiting to pay for the drinks, because she was leaning with her hands on the counter, her attitude that of a waiting impatience, so Emily sped up to get quickly by her side.

She got there in a couple of seconds, and leaned next to her on the counter. The moment she stopped by her side, she tried to catch her breath, because it'd been a long trot to the kiosk and she felt like first she had to sound like herself and not like a dying marathon woman. Then she prepared to talk, while Spencer realized her presence and turned a little to look at her with a slight surprise on her face. With that delightful surprised look on her face.

Emily took a deep breath.

"We will never break up", Emily said the magic words. "We will never break up. I promise."

Spencer didn't answer anything. She just kept looking at her, but Emily could tell her gaze was softening, warming up to her, so she decided to keep talking.

"And if we ever do, which we won't, we really won't", she continued, "but if it happens, we will completely abstain from going out with anyone, of whatever sex, gender or species. Boy, girl, or dog. We will never touch anyone else."

This time Emily could definitely see a spark in Spencer's eyes, even though her expression was still serious. She was laughing inside, but she didn't want to show.

Good.

"Am I forgiven?"

Spencer approached her a little, while they were still waiting for the waiter to charge them. Their fingers slightly touched on the counter.

Another good sign.

"How do you manage to be so cute even after pissing me off like that?", Spencer finally said.

"I'm sorry I pissed you off. But it  _was_  a joke. And Aria and Hanna started it."

It was only fair to displace the blame to Aria and Hanna, if only because they had gotten her into this mess.

"I know it was all a joke. But you still pissed me off."

"I don't want to break up. I don't want to ever see you with anyone. I'm stupid, and I'm happy, and when I'm happy I say stupid things."

A little smile came to Spencer's lips, and it slowly grew wider.

"You're not stupid. And stop being cute now", she ordered. "You still have some explaining to do. You said you'd rather see me with a guy and I can't help wondering why you'd actually want that to happen."

"I don't want that to happen. I don't want to see you with a guy."

"Okay, maybe not see me. But you seem pretty sure that's what's gonna happen, right?"

"No", Emily answered. "I don't know what's gonna happen. I don't care what's gonna happen as long as what's gonna happen involves the two of us. In Texas. And in Rosewood. And everywhere."

Spencer raised her brows at the mention of Texas, but she wasn't fooled. She still wanted Emily to clarify a couple of things she'd said.

"And the girl thing?"

The girl thing was complicated.

"I don't know. I want to be special."

"But you're special. There's no one more special than you."

"I know I'm special", Emily assured. "I'm the best. I'm plain awesome. I'm the greatest person you'll ever try. I'm totally sure there's no one better for you than me. I'm the perfect girlfriend."

Spencer smiled again, and her eyes sparkled once more at the way Emily was trying to turn the perfect-girlfriend argument on her. But her tone of voice was still serious and kind of severe when she talked. "Stop it and talk to me. Because it did sound like you think this is some kind of experiment I'm trying with you", she said. "Like you're even fine with it. Like you think this is the time that girl Spencer Hastings decided to try being gay with her best friend. And that's not how I feel  _at all_."

Emily sighed.

"That's not how I feel either."

"Then how do you feel?"

"I feel in love", Emily said, and she felt Spencer's fingers on hers when she said it. "And what I just said, it's the truth. I'm happy and I open my mouth and I say things. And maybe they're not the best things, but I still open my mouth and talk. And as for the girl thing, I don't know. I'd probably hate any person who ever got to be with you that's not me. I'm just more used to thinking of you with a guy, if it's not me, but that's all."

They intertwined their fingers, and at that moment they heard the waiter cough as a way to interrupt their little intimate moment. Spencer took the 5 dollar bill and gave it to the guy, then turned again to look at Emily.

"I don't like it when you seem to be so sure about me", Spencer told her. "I mean, when it's bad. When you say I'll go back to guys, or something, I don't like it. I know you know me. And it makes me feel like maybe I'm missing something. Like you know something I don't. But you don't. You don't know, because I…"

Emily pulled her closer by the waist and kissed her. She just did. Spencer was right. Why would she like that? How could they know? It didn't matter.

So they kissed. In the park. In front of everybody. Under the hot sun of June.

They had to separate when the waiter came back to give them the change. He coughed again, and they broke it off.

Emily took Spencer by the hand and they moved a little to one of the sides of the kiosk. There she kissed her again. In front of everybody. In the park. Little boys and girls were running around, playing with a ball or a string, while their parents stared at them or pretended not to look.

This was love.

Love was saying silly things and laughing and apologizing for saying silly things and kissing in front of people who'd luckily consider it only a nice entertainment and not an offense.

"You're forgiven now", Spencer said breathily when they broke it off again.

"Good", Emily responded. "Now, Texas. You don't seriously believe we're not going to kiss there, right?"

"We can't. It's gonna be hard, but it's not impossible."

"It  _is_  impossible. We're gonna die."

Spencer laughed at Emily's unusual dramatic style. "You're the master of self-control. It's just four days. We can survive it."

"I'm not the master of anything", Emily denied. So Spencer was totally serious about this. "I'll find a way. We'll get out of the house. There must be a place where we can go."

They looked into each other's eyes. "As long as it's far enough from your parents and we don't get accused of public scandal, I'm fine with it."

Emily felt relieved. Thank god. There was still hope in the world.

"One more thing."

"What?"

"A", Emily took her phone. "New text." She showed it to Spencer, who first rolled her eyes when she read it and then got again that intense, fiery gaze she always had when she found something terribly outrageous.

"Fuck A. I'm not perfect."

And with that she put her arms around Emily's neck to pull her back to her again. And again they started another kiss.

Five minutes later, they decided to walk back to the girls, to let them know they had already made up.

 


	5. The Killing Fields

"So what are you going to see?"

Mr. Fields was taking his keys to drive the girls to the movie theater. It was the last day of Spencer's visit in Texas. She was leaving the day after, and Emily had planned to spend the whole afternoon out in the mall, where they'd see a movie and have some ice cream before returning to the house to help Spencer pack her things back to Rosewood.

Emily was staying in Texas for one more week after Spencer left. She was sad. But, more importantly, she was desperate to have a moment alone, even if it was inside a movie auditorium. And movie auditoriums were dark. They provided intimacy. They provided occasions to hold hands, sometimes to kiss, although Spencer didn't really like to kiss when they were watching a movie. She actually  _enjoyed_  watching movies whenever she went to see one.

" _Mission Impossible_ ", Emily answered. "I've heard it's good."

It wasn't like they were actually going to  _see_  the movie this time. That was Emily's plan: she chose a movie Spencer wouldn't really care that much about on purpose.

However, she saw Spencer's brows raise in surprise. But her father didn't give any sign that he'd also realized.

"I thought we were gonna see  _The Ides of March_ ", Spencer opened her mouth and spoke her mind, while Emily looked at her blankly. "That one's supposed to be good."

Who in the world really wanted to see the last sequel of Tom Cruise flying around in impossible missions? On the other hand,  _The Ides of March_  was about politics. And Ryan Gosling was in it. And he was absolutely good-looking. As was Evan Rachel Wood (yes, she did notice that). And they were good actors too.

Emily's blank stare probably meant something, so Spencer decided to shut up.

"You haven't agreed on which movie you're gonna see?", Emily's father asked, a sweet mocking smile on his face that somehow resembled his daughter's. "Are you going to two different screenings?"

Something told Emily her father wasn't so innocent as to why she wanted to get out of the house to go see a movie on Spencer's last day in Texas. Thank god her father was on her side. But Spencer shouldn't really notice that. She didn't want her freaking out about it. She'd been ruthless. She'd been stern. She'd been perfectly composed during the last three days.

She'd been Spencer Hastings.

There had only been two kisses during those days. One had happened in the bathroom when Emily had come in to give Spencer a towel her mother had chosen for Spencer the day they arrived. She'd managed to steal that one, really quick, because Spencer urged her out of the bathroom, panicked that sharing one single moment of intimacy while at the same time undressing to get a shower meant they were really going to give in and to revel in a lot more than a kiss. The other one had happened in the garage while they waited for Emily's parents to drive together to Houston to do some sightseeing. If the first one had been quick, this one had been even quicker. But at least it'd been Spencer's initiative. They had really taken advantage of that second to actually show each other that they were more than friends. Because, by all accounts, they were behaving as if they were only friends who were travelling together to visit the parents of one of them. And that was driving Emily crazy.

Karma. Karma, indeed. Boomerangs, backfires. Hastings and Fields, Romeos and Juliets, Pennsylvania and Texas, the world and them.

She hoped Spencer never again dared to speak about self control.

Because one thing Emily could actually say for sure was that Spencer did know how to behave when she wanted. She wasn't like her. Emily tried, and basically managed to behave when the Hastings were around, but couldn't really act  _so infinitely controlled_ , and at the same time warm, and polite, and talkative, and  _friendly_  as Spencer was acting in front of her parents. She hated that. She admired that, but she hated it too. She knew Spencer was doing it precisely because she cared so much about their relationship, so she supposed she should actually be happy, but she hated it so, so much. Sometimes she felt almost confused that they were getting back to pure and sheer sexless friendship, and that she'd have to reinitiate all the movement that had gotten them to be a couple when they were back to Rosewood.

But there were these moments when they'd look at each other and they'd know, too. These moments, while they watched TV, or while they had dinner, or while they visited a town, or while they talked about Iraq or about the Obama Administration (Spencer had seemed to take a liking to her father, more than to her mother, and they sometimes engaged in deeply serious, polite discussions on international relations). These moments, when a single spark in the eye would burn their skin for a second. But you could not live only on looks once you had already kissed like crazy for two months, when you had already undressed the other person (not totally, but enough to know how they smelled and how they tasted when you touched them like that), when you had basically almost had sex on the bed, or maybe not entirely sex, but something really similar to sex, when you had almost made the other person have an  _orgasm_. So, no, you could not really live on eyes and blazing smiles for four days after that.

And that was why they were going to see a movie. To not see it at all.

"I'm fine with  _The Ides of March_  too", Emily said, trying to close the topic. "I hope I understand it, though."

"Why wouldn't you understand it? You've read  _Julius Caesar_  too".

"But isn't it supposed to happen today? Like, in real day, in real politics?"

Why they were talking about this, Emily didn't know. She was just trying to make conversation to make sure her father actually thought they were going to see the movie. Or rather to make Spencer believe that her father actually thought so.

"Yeah. It's about a political candidate and a guy who writes his speeches", Spencer explained, a little wide-eyed because she didn't really understand why Emily was saying she wouldn't understand the movie.

Emily nodded, and her father nodded, and with that they went out of the house. Mr. Fields drove them through the base and then out of it in the mall's direction. The weather was hot and dry. It was already so hot that taking your hand out of the window might mean you would burn it red, especially if you were sort of pale as Spencer was. She had acquired a pinkish, slightly tanned colour during those days, and it went well with her graceful, decent dresses. As for Emily, she was obviously as tan as always, but her skin had also darkened a little. She was wearing a wonderful miniskirt she'd bought on their recent trip to the mall, when they'd run into Toby. She was glowing, intentionally so. She had to be as casually seductive as possible to take Spencer out of the movie and make her pay attention to her. Although she was pretty sure she was going to get her attention, because she had indeed caught a glance directed to her legs. It'd been brief, almost non-existent, but she knew what it meant, and it meant that the miniskirt was doing its job well. Thank god for miniskirts.

Spencer's legs, though, were not so explicit to her sight as they'd been during their last weeks in Rosewood. She was wearing a very nice, decent dress that showed enough of her knees but that gracefully and elegantly stopped right up there, preventing her sight, or anyone's sight for that matter, from tracing up her long, slender thighs. It was a very beautiful dress, worn by a very beautiful person, who happened to be her girlfriend, even if you couldn't really tell by their most recent behaviour.

Mr. Fields dropped them off the mall, where he decided not to park, and promised to get them back by 8.30 p.m. So they had approximately 3 and a half, maybe 4 hours. Emily felt as a human chronometer; she was used to this when she swam, but not really when she got out on a date with Spencer. Because this was a date. This was going to be a date, and Spencer was going to find out soon, if she was not really imagining it by now, which she probably was, because she was no fool at all. They walked around the mall, found the movie theater and bought the tickets for the movie. Before getting  _The Ides of March_ 's ones, Emily looked at Spencer trying to get a confirmation, but Spencer seemed to be totally sure that was the one, so they bought them and then decided to wait around for the movie to start.

Spencer sent her the first see-through glance since they'd arrived to Texas. "So how are you planning to do this?"

She knew where this was headed. Her confirmation made Emily smile inside.

"I'm planning to do it the way it's done", Emily answered, feeling finally free. "You do know we're not going to see the movie, don't you?"

"I can imagine what's on your mind, yeah. It's not that difficult to see." There was a knowing, slightly twisted smile on her face that made Emily's heart flutter almost as if this was the first time they were going out like this.

"I knew you were smart enough", Emily replied. "I just don't get why you didn't want to see that Tom Cruise movie. You're not really going to see this one either."

"Because I can't say  _anything_  about that crap movie. At least I've read a couple of reviews about this one, so I'll be able to say something when your parents ask", she explained. Oh, she was always so clever. Calculating. Smart-smart. "Are we, like, gonna kiss the whole movie? Is that allowed in Texas?"

"For being such a smart-ass, you're acting pretty dumb", Emily winked, with a conspiratorial look on her face. "There's a place called restroom, you know."

"You're not seriously thinking about spending the whole movie there, right?" This time she did seem a little surprised.

"Just follow my indications and you'll be fine", Emily smirked again.

The movie theater was packed with people. Emily didn't really want to make out in front of the whole world, as dark and loud as the movie would be, but, as she'd said, there were  _restrooms_ , which would hopefully not be used during the movie because everybody would be so interested in the political speeches that they could have it all for themselves. That was the plan, at least. She wasn't so used to taking the lead. Well, she sometimes did take the lead, but Spencer was usually more aggressive when it came to finding places for making out. She guessed this was what desperation and hunger created in a person: she'd had to wise up. She hoped she was measuring up to such a task.

They got inside the theater and walked to find their seats, while Emily wisely scanned the surroundings of the auditorium to find the closest restroom. Most of the people who'd gone to see the movie were much older than them. She hoped that'd be a good thing. Probably it ruled out all the groups of male teenagers trying to make a pass on them; on the other hand, it didn't rule out nosy ladies and creepy old guys that only Aria would find interesting. In any case, they were there. First step was taken. Next step next.

They sat. They waited while they talked about meaningless things, all the while truly thinking about the moment when the lights would go out.

Emily felt nervous, somehow. Like she was on a secret mission, which she hoped wouldn't be impossible. Spencer was leaving, and that made her feel all sorts of sad and concerned; but at the same time she was excited, anxious even, about the restroom make-out adventure she'd planned. Spencer herself looked a little anxious too. Almost as if she was  _really_  waiting for her indications, which was sort of exciting too, in a way, because it didn't happen that often back in Rosewood.

The lights went out. The first images came. Music sounded.

She turned her head a little to look at Spencer, who looked back at her and felt for her hand in the dark. So she leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Follow me in a couple of minutes, okay?"

Spencer's eyes shone bright in the dark. She looked a little lost, though, but she nodded in agreement.

Still she tugged at her shirt when Emily was already standing up. "Are you sure? Don't you prefer to kiss here? There aren't that many people", she whispered really low, making Emily bent down to hear her.

Was she scared of the restroom?

Now, that was weird.

A couple of people shushed them, and their hush was heard all over the theater more than their actual whispers. So Emily sent Spencer a commanding look and walked out of their aisle in the restroom's direction.

Was Spencer really scared of the restroom? Maybe she thought the police was going to interrupt them there and send them to jail for public scandal and inappropriate behaviour. Spencer seemed to think Texas was a sort of Afghanistan-like territory in the United States. For a girl as courageous as her, who used to make out in public restrooms with her  _a lot_  since they started dating, it seemed to be quite a strange fear. It was probably the combination of being in _foreign_ , unknown territory with the Fields Family that scared her. Or was it something else?

Emily entered the restroom, which was deserted exactly as she'd expected. She checked the toilet cubicles, making sure no one was there, and then looked herself in the mirror. She looked really good today. The summer always had a good effect on her. And she was getting the sleep she'd missed during the last centuries of her fight against A. Speaking of whom, she hoped A had not travelled all the way to Texas to watch them make out in the restroom.

She leaned against the washstand as she waited for Spencer to appear. She was taking more than a couple of minutes, and Emily grumpily wondered if she'd actually decided to watch the movie. However, the door to the restrooms opened after ten minutes (ten!) and her head with her wavy curls was followed by the rest of her decently dressed body. She had again that slightly confused expression on her face, but her eyes shone once more when she looked at Emily.

"What took you so long?", Emily playfully scolded her.

"Sorry". She took some hesitant steps towards her. "I was just trying to make enough time."

Emily grabbed her hand and took her to one of the cubicles. She closed the door and secured it, and suddenly she felt like a real, true pervert, like one of those people who'd do anything to push it, like Ben when he had thrown her against the lockers because he was angry and desperate and couldn't really take her infinite postponement anymore.

She didn't like the idea, so she backed off a little.

Maybe Spencer just wasn't in the mood to make out today.

She'd have to respect that.

It was weird, but she'd have to respect it.

She leaned her back against the opposite wall in the cubicle, trying to impose a distance, because if they weren't really going to make out, she'd seriously have to exercise  _a lot_  of that self control that Spencer always either praised or complained about.

Spencer looked at her questioningly.

"It's okay if you don't wanna do anything", Emily whispered. "We can go watch the movie if you want."

Spencer shot her a mocking one-brow raising.

"What?" She took a couple of steps towards her until they were breath to breath. "Where are you getting this idea from? I always wanna do something."

"You seem a little out of it", Emily explained, but she felt already excited because they were so close as she'd expected to be before giving up on it.

Spencer offered a shy, coy smile. "I'm just kind of nervous", she said, putting her hands on Emily's waist. "I feel like it's been so long already."

Emily knew the feeling. She was nervous as well. Nervous and anxious and desperate. But it'd only been three days since they left Rosewood. It seemed longer because they'd been together all the time without being able to do anything to each other.

"You've really mastered the art of not kissing in Texas. You won. You're always the winner."

"I don't think this is something I wanna win", Spencer replied, and after that she leaned in and they kissed.

They kissed. First, slowly, taking all the time they hadn't taken since they arrived to Texas. Then, a little more hungrily, with passion that progressively unleashed. It'd been a while. Three days were a while. Three days were a long while when you wanted a person badly, evilly, viciously.

So they kissed, and they kissed, and their tongues played and fought and sucked against each other in a way that they already knew well because they were already doing it every time they kissed and kissed and kissed in another restroom or in another bedroom. And they touched, because they had hands too that already knew, more or less, what to do. So they touched each other's face, and they brushed each other's hair, and they wandered down each other's neck, and there were other parts too that could be reachable and that were reached by hand and by tongue.

Spencer's hand seemed to be as smart as her owner, because it did go down Emily's strapless T-shirt and pulled it up. So much for being nervous about it. She did want to make out. Badly. Really, really badly. She'd been a good girl during all these days, but now it was too easy to get there because, unlike her, Emily was wearing clothes composed of two pieces, which made every move so much easier than anything, and so she easily reached Emily's tanned, burning skin. They stopped one moment to look at each other, and Emily just took off her shirt decisively, the way she did that kind of thing when she was decisive, because what the hell? The shirt slipped to the floor and her dark skin beamed with the light the summer lent her, and their mouths met again after their eyes, while Spencer's hand trailed up and down Emily's waist and stomach until she finally reached her breasts, because what the hell? It'd been a while, and she needed it. And the feeling she always had when her fingers wandered there obscenely and squeezed while Emily's skin warmed up and expelled hot rays of energy under her touch was just too much, and she just couldn't take it, but she could. She could and she did.

Their breathing hitched, heavy and hard.

Maybe they should stop it now. This was a public restroom. The voices of the actors could be heard not so distant from where they were touching, little fragments of a drama they couldn't really catch.

Their breathing was louder in their ears anyway.

But what about the bra? Emily wanted to undress herself, wanted to undress Spencer too, but she was a little worried about the fact that this wasn't really a bedroom and someone could actually come in, and she didn't want to have all her clothes scattered around a restroom floor. But, come on, she'd started this. She had. She  _was_  dying for it. And Spencer was going to leave  _tomorrow_. And she had this damn decent dress on, and she couldn't really reach her skin because she was covered by the dress, and she couldn't really go further than the neck and a little bit of cleavage and her arms and her armpits and…

She turned around, grabbing Spencer until she pushed her against the wall. Spencer's eyes opened in slight surprise, although she was already used to Emily's gentle ninja flipping moves when they were making out. They seemed to fight for power and dominance in a really sexy, heated way. She actually liked it a lot. It gave her the sense that nothing was expected when it came to them, as much as they knew each other already, everything was new, still, when they entered a restroom like this. So the mere push of the wall against her back aroused her, because it was a sign of Emily's aggressiveness and, basically, that was hot. It was always so hot to discover some new side to this, some new way to push and pull and get out of their clothes.

Emily's teeth bit decisively on her neck with more force than was usually needed, and Spencer cried out a little, very little because they were in a public restroom and what the hell? What if someone called the security guards, or the police? But her cry seemed to draw more of those instincts of aggression, because Emily bit again, this time her shoulder, and then sucked, softer, somehow trying to compensate for the previous excessive force.

If they continued like this, well, how could she know when they would stop it? Would Emily slow it down as she always did?

But Emily wasn't really thinking anymore. Not after hearing that soft cry. Sometimes those sounds were all she needed. They guided her in the dark. It wasn't as if she knew what she was doing. But, at the same time, she knew. She just had to  _hear_  Spencer.

It seemed like the proper moment to stop.

And Emily even grasped the idea with some clarity. It was the proper moment to stop. But she was frustrated because she couldn't get into Spencer's dress, and then again Spencer was leaving tomorrow, and what was she going to do? What were they going to do? Could she go back to only thinking and not doing? This was the  _one and only_  moment where they could actually touch in days and days and days, and it was the summer, and it was her right, and god, this dress was making her angry.

So she did something she hadn't really done before. Or not like that, in such a confident, shameless manner. She lowered her hand and reached Spencer's skin under the dress, her thighs warm, soft as she knew they'd be. And she ran her fingers up her thighs under the dress, satisfied that  _at least_  now she was allowed to touch more intimate skin. Spencer gasped for air, obviously not expecting the dangerous move of her hand.

It was a hard, exciting panting. Again.

Was she losing it? Like, really losing it?

Once more Emily thought for a very brief instant that now  _this_  was the moment to stop. The voices of the movie out there seemed to be far, but provided some kind of curtain of sound, like they were embedded inside the movie, in a private place, obscure, behind the screen, not really there. So she moved her hand up a little, delicately trailing Spencer's inner thigh, and it felt again so soft and warm, feverishly warm even, that it almost gave her a fainting feeling. She was still biting Spencer's neck while she moved, and she felt Spencer reach her earlobe and bite too, and then breathe erratically some more, in that very distinctive way that Emily already recognized as a sign of Spencer's intense response to her. And then Spencer tried to pull away a little, pushing back to inhale the air she was lacking in her lungs.

Again they looked at each other in the already misted eye.

"What are you doing?", Spencer managed to say with the most guttural sound she'd ever uttered. "We can't here."

And, yes, it was the moment to stop. Definitely.

But they didn't stop.

Emily did hesitate during a moment, the precise moment it took for Spencer to actually open her mouth and kiss her with all the energy she'd ever managed to prove herself to have. Emily received the eager kiss with surprise, because hadn't she just said they had to stop it now? Maybe she'd heard wrong. Maybe Spencer didn't really want to stop either. Possibly. Yes, possibly there was no way to stop it anymore.

Her fingers trailed up the path until they reached their aim. Panties. A whole new universe.

It was a well-known universe, in theory. But in practice it was as new as walking on the moon. Spencer's underwear. Under the dress. Emily's hand under the dress. So many factors that it was crazy to try and solve the equation. But Emily wasn't going crazy; she felt unusually calmed, determined, and at the same time she felt like she was going to fall and blackout with the surprise and the excitement this caused on her own body.

She did what she had to do.

Not that she knew for sure what had to be done, but she did it anyway under the sole guidance of Spencer's body, of Spencer's feel of cotton and hardly masked skin between her thighs, under the fabric of that one last piece of clothing, of Spencer's breath and sound.

And it did happen.

And when it happened, there was another moment of vision and lucidity that told Emily that she  _had_  to watch Spencer's face, that it was an obligation; maybe not an obligation, but a force, a violent, absolute, radical force inside her. The look on her face amazed her. She looked so concentrated, so focused with her delicately furrowed brow, but it was a different expression than the one she got when she was discussing or addressing some important point. She looked surprised, stunned even as she struggled and fought to return her gaze while her whole body trembled against Emily's touch.

It was the most beautiful expression in the world.

There was a moan, choked, barely silenced, because she was trying so hard not to make a sound.

And it was happening.

It happened.

Emily supported Spencer's body while she opened her eyes and slowly tried to recover her breathing, still clinging to Emily's waist, digging her nails in her skin, startled and weak in the legs.

"Are you crazy?" She'd spoken too early because her voice quivered weirdly. "Are you totally crazy?"

Emily felt suddenly terrified of what she'd done.

"Yes", she said. She was totally crazy. This was a public restroom and there were  _people_  watching a movie next to them. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Spencer looked at her still completely surprised. "You don't get to be sorry about this. Holy crap."

Instead of killing Emily, she pulled her closer in a sudden attack, because she'd already recovered some of her forces, and kissed her again. Emily kissed her back slowly, breathy, hotly.

For god's sake, they  _were_  in a restroom.

"How did you even do this?", she asked once they separated again. "I told you to stop."

"I… You told me to stop and then you kissed me like there was no tomorrow." Emily tried to explain why it'd happened. "And I just lost it."

"No,  _I_  lost it", Spencer replied. She seemed to think for a moment. Then she pushed Emily back against the opposite wall, and she surprised herself at how easy it was to recover her energy even though her legs were still shaking.

Emily's breathing was still warm and heavy when she kissed her against the wall.

Now she had the power. Part of it, at least.

So she started to pull Emily's skirt up to get back at her, but Emily's hand quickly moved to stop her.

"No, we can't."

"We can't? We just  _did_."

"We're in a restroom. There's no time. The movie's ending."

They were whispering now really low, suddenly aware of their big, impressive secret.

Spencer's hand stopped trying to move up Emily's skirt.

"You could've thought about that when you decided to put your hand on my panties", she accused. "Now you just don't get to choose."

Emily returned her accusing glance somewhat apologetically, but there was a trace of naughtiness in there too. "I know. I got carried away", she said. "Was it that bad?"

Still she got a hold of Spencer's hand so she wouldn't keep pushing up her skirt.

"It is bad if you don't let me do the same", Spencer complained. "It's not fair."

"I'll let you do it, just  _not_  here."

"And then where? Back in your parents' house?" The mere thought of returning to the Fields' like this made her shiver, this time of terror and embarrassment. "I probably look like a total slut, Emily. And it's your fault. We're in a restroom!"

"I know. I am sorry." The truth was that she wasn't that sorry. She felt a little ashamed, but not really sorry. "You don't look like a slut. You look beautiful."

She did look sweaty and totally hot, pink stains all over her neck and her face and even in her arms.

"I hate you", Spencer said, wrapping her arms around Emily's waist, giving up on the temptation to touch  _her_  under her skirt too. "I hate you. You should know that."

"You don't", Emily replied, kissing her forehead.

"We  _need_  to do this horizontal, Emily", Spencer pulled back a little to look at Emily again. "It's not fair. You owe me one."

"Okay, I owe you one. We'll do it back home, when you're able to get a bedroom for enough time."

"There is  _enough_  time if you don't panic every time you hear a car", Spencer answered. "Or every time your mom or Hanna's are calling you on the phone."

Maybe Spencer did have a point. She did want to repeat the same thing on a horizontal position and getting to actually  _see_  a lot more of what she'd seen this time.

"You're right", she conceded, and again Spencer looked surprised that she was agreeing so fast.

"I hate you", Spencer repeated, this time softly. She didn't hate her. "Why do you get to do this and I don't?"

"Well, you got to do  _something_ , right?", Emily asked, her naughtiness hardly concealed.

Spencer's face turned a lot pinker than it already was at the comment, so she hid her face in the crook of Emily's neck.

"I want you to feel the same", she slowly said. "Why am I always the one who loses it?"

Emily embraced her. "It's not always, it's the first time." It had, indeed, been the first time. The real one. "It's just that you're easy for me."

The truth was that she could lose it too. If Spencer did the same to her, she'd lose it too. She knew. She knew what she was feeling under her skirt.

But it was also true that she was maybe slower in reacting. And that she was perhaps extremely obsessed about what she wanted to do to Spencer and how she wanted to do it.

And that Spencer actually let her do it.

She really was a pervert. Well, maybe not a pervert, but a dirty person with a dirty mind. A dirty person who did dirty things in public restrooms. In Texas.

"Are you actually saying that I'm easy?" Spencer pulled away enough to look at her and gave her an offended look.

"Not in a bad way. In a good way."

"Is there a good way to be called easy?"

"Yes. This one", Emily said. "I just know. I know your tricks."

She sounded extremely confident, although she didn't always know what she was doing. Well, most of the time she didn't really know. Not in a theoretical way. But she had a gut instinct, and she followed it, and apparently it didn't work that bad.

They stared at each other, Spencer's pink colours slowly retreating from her face and her neck and her arms.

"So I actually have to play difficult to learn your tricks?", Spencer asked, and even though she tried to sound annoyed her voice had a clear playful, pleasant touch to it. "Is that what you're saying?"

"No, not exactly", Emily replied, feeling excited again about that playful tone. She shouldn't forget they were still in the restroom, and the movie was probably going to end soon. "Anyway I don't think you can actually play difficult", she teased, even though she knew she shouldn't.

Spencer gave her a crooked smile, reciprocating the tease.

"You don't want me to enter a competition here, Em. You know I can easily win."

"I'm not so sure about that one", she bluffed, although she did hope Spencer wouldn't actually play difficult for her. "Did you ever get to read those books?"

"What books?"

"The ones on girl-to-girl sexual intercourse."

Spencer shrugged her shoulders, as if she didn't really care anymore.

"Yeah", she said. She'd read a couple of articles. They weren't very enlightening; because one thing she was discovering now was that there was an enormous difference between doing these things and reading about them. Suddenly she felt confused again. And she'd been called  _easy_. She couldn't forget about that one. "This is sex already, right? I mean, it  _has_  to be sex. It feels like sex."

Emily gave her a quizzical look. She wasn't so sure anymore. They weren't naked and they weren't horizontal and it hadn't really been  _that_  dirty, but maybe it  _was_  sex after all.

"We don't know what sex feels like. Maybe this is sex. Or maybe sex is better", she ventured.

"Better? Okay, maybe it  _is_  better. I hope it is, actually." Spencer was already using her brain to think about the problem. "Not that it wasn't good", she said when she saw Emily's confused expression. "But, you know, it's a restroom. I don't wanna say my first sexual experience was in a restroom."

"We won't call it sex then. We'll call it making out."

"This is definitely not making out, Em."

Making out didn't make your legs shake and all your muscles tremble ten minutes after having your girlfriend's hand in your panties while you were in a restroom. Making out made you feel horny, and made you want for more, and it did give you a tinge of it, but it didn't create some sort of inner explosion of nerves and feelings where you thought your body might skyrocket into space if you pushed it just a little bit further.

"Then we won't call it anything. It won't have a name", Emily teased. "It'll be The Texas Restroom Experience."

Oh, she was getting so funny.

Spencer wanted to strangle her, but at the same time she felt like kissing her nose, so she did.

"You like restrooms too much." She observed Emily's slow darker blush coming to her cheeks, so she decided to continue the tease. Apparently she'd found a weakness. "Are we gonna be the typical couple who gets a kick out of public places?"

The darkening blush increased.

"I hope not", Emily responded. She believed the only reason for what had happened was the fact that they desperately needed a place to be alone. She actually found the restroom uncomfortable. But she felt a little ashamed of herself. "Let's just use a bed next time, okay?"

"I'll try", Spencer agreed. "And please remember you owe me one. You're not getting away next time."

"You make it sound as if I actually wanted to get away."

"Well, fact is I've never gotten down there", Spencer asserted looking down at the miniskirt, and Emily blushed again, this time intensely, at the comment. "Are you gonna let me or not?"

"I'll think about it", Emily tried to smirk, although she suddenly felt a little nervous about the whole idea. But Spencer looked at her with the kind of expression that meant that she wasn't going to take no for an answer, and it wasn't as if she was actually ever going to say no to that. She just felt suddenly shy. "Don't look at me like that. Of course it's gonna happen."

"I have no doubt."

"Just not here."

"Right. Not here, where you just decided to do it to me."

"Exactly."

This time she did smirk. Because she was the greatest girlfriend ever. And she was certain they would find a bed and time in Rosewood and that she would put her phone on mute mode and wouldn't care if the Hastings were supposed to arrive at some point.

They kissed. Again. And Emily felt hot. Again.

Maybe she did get a kick out of public restrooms after all.

But it was really time to let go. The movie  _was_  going to end, and Spencer  _did_  look still all flustered and sweaty and really, really sexy in a very literal way. So they decided Spencer would get out first to freshen herself up and go back to her seat (to watch the end of the movie), while Emily would wait a little. Yeah, she hoped people were stupid enough to not realize they'd been out of it for the entire time.

That was what they did. It wasn't such a bad plan after all.

While Emily was walking back to her own seat next to Spencer in the theater, she wasn't really ashamed of the whole thing anymore. The Texas Restroom Experience would stay in her mind forever. There was no way she could actually forget about it. And as much as she'd hated the decent, nice summer dress Spencer had decided to wear today, she was already kind of fond of it too. She was suddenly so thankful for decent dresses, for movie theaters, even for long political speeches that she wouldn't get to understand at all.

 


	6. And You Set Fire To My Heart

"Does anyone know if he's there?"

Spencer and Aria were sitting in the front seats of Spencer's car, while Hanna was in the backseat. They were all lurking around Jason's DiLaurentis' house, parked a few yards from it, trying to follow their back-to-point-zero plan against A. It'd been two days since Spencer had come back to Rosewood from Texas, and they'd finally decided to go there together. Aria had sneaked out of her house thanks to Spencer's always convincing presence, and Hanna had decided she'd not wear heels during this adventure. She did have sneakers and anyway it'd been all her idea to push Spencer back in the game, so she'd better be there. And Emily would kill her if something ever happened to Spencer.

Aria shrugged her shoulders, unable to provide the information demanded by Spencer. "How could I know? I can't get out of my house that often, Spencer."

Spencer looked at Hanna's reflected image in the rear-view mirror. "I don't know either! I haven't seen him around."

"So we're all spying on someone who may or may not be there?", Spencer said, with a tone that wanted to underline the annoying quality of the situation. "How can we break in if we don't even know if there's someone inside or if he's out for a drink? He used to drink a lot."

"He doesn't drink anymore", Aria defended him. Then she observed the house thoughtfully. "The lights are out. He's probably not there." And his car wasn't parked there either.

"Probably is not something I wanna hear when I'm about to break in someone's house, Aria."

"You guys think too much", Hanna said. "We wait. We see. We go."

"Are you trying to sound as an action movie character? Because it doesn't work like that." Spencer looked back at Hanna this time. "Remind me of the reason why I can't leave this town for two days. It was your idea to do something but you don't even know if Jason's here."

"Can you stop freaking out at us? You  _live_  in front of him. You're the one who should know if he's here or not", Hanna defended herself, and she had a point. Spencer had been in Rosewood for almost two days already, so she could've looked out of her window. "And you were out for four days. By the way, how did that go?"

"Yeah, how did it go? You haven't told us. Did you shine or did you glitter?"

Spencer looked quizzically at Aria's particular use of metaphorical language. "I thought you guys got the Jason thing covered", she said, returning the Jason ball to Hanna's and Aria's court. She should've paid attention to the Di Laurentis' house during those two days, though. She was becoming sloppy in her detective work. "And, yes, it went well. Very well, actually. Mr. Fields is the best. He's a lot like Emily, in a way."

She'd actually fallen in love with the man during her stay. Well, not  _fallen in love_  for real. She was already in love with his daughter. But she'd totally loved how sweet and noble and sort of subtly funny he was. She saw a lot of Emily in him. Or the other way around, maybe.

"I told you you'd glitter, Spence", Aria confirmed. "There was no reason to panic for you."

"Trust me, glitter is something I don't ever wanna do", Spencer corrected Aria's use of the verb. Every time she heard that word she imagined either tacky metallic powders or Mariah Carey singing in that awful movie Hanna and Ali had insisted on seeing a long, long time ago. "But yeah, it was really good."

She still didn't completely understand how she'd managed to keep it together the evening after The Texas Restroom Experience happened. But, somehow, she had. She'd looked composed and graceful, and had forced Emily to do  _most_  of the talking on that movie they hadn't seen and that Emily had no idea about. Fortunately, sexual experiences (they'd agreed on not calling it _sex_  yet) seemed to get the best out of her, because she'd actually talked a lot about  _Julius Caesar_  and about loyalty in politics and about things Emily never really used to talk about, except when she was trying to follow Spencer's conversation. She was so funny. Spencer couldn't help thinking about all that flush and fluster after the restroom thing with fondness and sweetness and a lot of other things she'd better not think about right now. Not when they were supposed to be spying on invisible Jason.

"Well, she hasn't said anything about  _Mrs._  Fields, and she's the one who really  _scares_  her", Hanna finally cut in, leaning across from her place in the backseat. "So how did things go with her? Did she give you bad looks?"

"No, she was really nice too", Spencer said. "Really kind and attentive."

"But she still scares the shit outta you", Hanna ended the sentence.

Spencer seemed to take a moment to think about it. "No, she's really nice", she said. "But, yeah, I'm still a little afraid of her."

There was a silence in the car when Hanna and Aria actually looked at each other with a gesture of surprise. It wasn't that often that Spencer admitted to being afraid of someone who wasn't A or a possible murderer.

Spencer continued talking, unaware of the silent communication between Hanna and Aria. "I mean, she's Emily's mom, and as nice as she is, she's still kind of, you know, she's so righteous and rigid sometimes…"

"I don't know anyone like that", Hanna intently replied, thinking about all the times Spencer had been ready to pass a quick judgment on other people who weren't them.

Spencer picked up the comment and turned around a little from her place on the driver's seat to look at Hanna. "I'm not like that. I'm pretty open-minded and understanding and sympathetic with other people."

"Open-minded, yes", Aria intervened. "Understanding and sympathetic, not so much."

"What? Why?", Spencer gave them a truly offended look. "I  _am_  a very understanding and sympathetic person. I sincerely try to get people's motives even if they're acting as complete and total idiots."

"Yeah, yeah", Hanna dismissed. "Sure."

"You do try to understand", Aria conceded. "Motives, yeah. But you're not so willing to give chances. Although I must say you're pretty honest when you're wrong about someone."

"Of couse I am", Spencer said. "But bastards and idiots are not my problem. They don't deserve either a chance or my time."

And that was why she wasn't probably considered an understanding, sympathetic person by her own friends. Even though she pretty much  _was_  a person who tried to understand the reason of things and actions. But she didn't care about it. She didn't really regret being like that. She had no tolerance for idiots and bastards in the world. They existed, they did and said things, but that didn't mean she had to actually  _listen to them_ , right?

"So what about the kissing?" Hanna changed the topic to the next logical question she had in mind. "Did Em get you to surrender your chastity belt?"

Spencer's heart skipped an idiotic, flustered beat.

"Everything went as expected", she lied. "I was perfectly well-behaved."

"You didn't kiss her even  _once_?", Aria asked, surprised. "Emily must be going crazy down there."

"Down there?"

"I did not just say that", Aria said, puzzled. "Okay, I did not just say that."

"You said that, but you didn't want to", Spencer confirmed. "So what about me anyway? I'm going crazy too."

She  _was_  going crazy. Basically because she couldn't really stop thinking about The Texas Restroom Experience. She went to sleep and she dreamt about it. She opened her eyes in the morning and she thought about it. She talked to Emily on the phone and she kept getting ideas and images in her head.

They needed a bed.

She couldn't put away the image of Emily looking at her while she was coming. Just the thought of it gave her goosebumps and sent waves to her stomach. Jesus. Christ. Holy. Crap. All sorts of different blasphemies came to her mind when she recalled that moment. She was observing her like she wanted to record the image and set it in stone. Her eyes had been so intensely dark – they were always dark already, really dark brown – that they almost resembled black-night dark eyes, almost as she imagined a black hole taking over all the light, all material things in the universe. Not even the black night. The night was never so dark. The night was more blue than black. But a black hole couldn't be seen. It was so black it couldn't even be seen. But it got you, it trapped you inside. That was how she felt in that moment, when she fought to open her eyes to let Emily see her, but also to sort of admit to being trapped into it. Jesus. A shiver came down to her knees. She absolutely wanted to be trapped into it again, to be swept away again like that. How could such a beautiful, dreamy face like Emily's, with those long eyelashes and those high, healthy cheekbones, be possessed by such a commanding, driving streak like the one that showed in her eyes during that rushed, crazy moment?

Enough. She couldn't think about this  _now_. How was she supposed to know if Jason was there or if A was around or whatever other thing could happen tonight if she kept thinking about this? Emily had to leave her mind for a single second. Emily, just go, leave. Or at least let that image go. She could think about it later, safe at home. But not  _now_.

She moved uncomfortably in the driver's seat.

"I don't believe you, Spencer", Hanna said, leaning across from behind to try to look at her. "I bet you did kiss at least once."

"Just twice", Spencer half-heartedly admitted, and it was the truth. The official truth. "Really quick ones."

"Really? Nothing else?"

Had Emily said something to her?

No, that was utterly impossible. Emily was the most reserved person ever. Even with Hanna.

"Nothing else", and she could tell the rush of blood finally coming to her face. It was late at night and they were hovered in the car and Hanna was behind her, so she actually hoped she wouldn't notice it.

"Then why are your ears getting red?"

It was Hanna after all. She got every detail. And, come on, her ears? Her  _ears_? She shouldn't have tied her hair into a ponytail tonight. But it was really the most convenient way to wear her hair when she was involved in her sleuthing activities.

"Something else  _did_  happen", Hanna continued, noticing the way Spencer ignored her comment. Her blond waves appeared between Aria's and Spencer's bodies in the car when she leaned closer in the seat.

"She doesn't have to tell us, Han", Aria sympathetically said, observing the reddish, pinkish shades that were indeed covering Spencer's ears and face.

"Exactly, I don't have to tell you. And I won't".

She hoped this would finish it.

But it was Hanna, and Hanna finished things when and how she wanted.

"You were a lot more talkative when you were going out with Toby, you know."

Spencer turned a little to talk to the blond waves and the blue eyes behind them. "That's probably because he wasn't your friend and you really didn't know him."

"So what?"

"I'm not gonna talk about Emily in that way to you guys."

"You have to talk about things, Spencer. We don't want the dirty details, just some  _information_."

"Ask her if you want to know."

"You're a lot easier than her."

Okay, was there some sort of world conspiracy against her? First Emily and now Hanna were calling her easy. She'd been called a lot of things. Brainy, nerdy, dorky, sporty, competitive, bossy. Annoying. Scary. And now she was  _easy_.

What did that mean? What had changed?

"I'm not easy. And I'm not talking."

She couldn't help another rush of blood to her face, though.

"Aren't we supposed to be here so we can break in Jason's house?", Aria asked, and Spencer was thankful for that.

"We still have time", Hanna answered, leaning to catch every detail from Spencer's face. "We can chat about things while we wait for him to show up. Or to not show up."

"Things", Spencer replied, looking away from Hanna to observe the Di Laurentis' house. "Not me."

"Things. You and Emily included", Hanna fought back. "So there was more than kissing."

"No."

"Your ears are talking to me. You don't really need to open your mouth."

"Then you and my ears can have a nice conversation while I don't respond to anything you say."

"Come on, guys", Aria cut in. "Stop it. There's no need to know if they already had sex", she said, talking to Hanna.

The mention of the sex word sent another wave of blood to Spencer's face. And ears.

"You say it as if it's a bad thing. But it's not a bad thing". Hanna was starting to give up after Aria's intervention. "I'm just curious to know."

"I know it's not a bad thing", Spencer suddenly said. "It's just a thing you don't need to be informed of."

And Emily would kill her if she spilled something.

Anyway they didn't have sex. Well, she wasn't sure about it. She still had to get that bed and do  _more_  things to actually have a clear idea of what had gone on in that restroom.

Jesus. Not  _again_. Not that image  _again_.

"So there  _is_  a thing, right?", Hanna attacked again, and Aria rolled her eyes in exhaustion. "Did you bang her? Or did she bang you? We still need to figure that one out."

Spencer was starting to get really nervous about the interrogation, so she turned around again. "Why are you so anxious to know? No, we didn't have sex. But if we did, we'd bang each other."

Or that was what she  _hoped_  would happen if she actually found a way to play difficult, learn Emily's tricks, and stop her from gaining all the control and the power when they were in such a situation. The next time they were in such a situation. In a bed. Not in a restroom. Actually, she didn't mind repeating the restroom experience, as gross as it may sound, and even though she would never admit to such a thing, because the memory of it kind of totally made her dizzy and high, and there was that blush on Emily's face that told her that maybe she did like to try that stuff in such a weird, awful place, but if it was to be repeated it had to be  _after_  the bed and after a lot of more things that still had to happen.

Once again, no. No, no, no. She had to stop thinking about these things.

"Are you happy now?", she asked Hanna, trying to pretend she was  _not_  thinking about what she was really thinking.

She tried to focus on Jason. On the house in front of her eyes. On Jenna. On A.

"I'm happier now because at least you're communicating with me, yes", Hanna joked. "So it wasn't sex. But it was something dirty or you wouldn't get so nervous about it."

"Hanna…", Aria tried again.

"I'm not nervous."

"But you're not denying it."

"If at least you'd use these skills you've got on something  _useful_ , Hanna", Spencer complained, her usually husky voice an octave higher. "I don't question you on your activities with Caleb. I listen to you if you wanna talk, but I don't interrogate you to know whatever stuff you're doing with him  _in my lake house_." She couldn't avoid the reproach, since she'd recently learned that Hanna and Caleb had used the Hastings' vacation house for their sexual activities.

Hanna completely disregarded her comment. "So it wasn't sex, but it was hardcore stuff. Porny stuff."

"Last time I heard, Hanna, porn was all about sex."

"Okay, not porny then. But definitely big, sexy stuff". Hanna tried to think about sexual activities that you could get on with a woman, but she wasn't very learned in the matter and a lot of different things came to her mind. "Oral sex?"

"For god's sake, Hanna, why do you have to sound so gross?", Spencer finally yelled. "And, for your information, oral sex has the  _sex_  tag on it."

Thinking about oral sex was everything she needed now to try to concentrate on Jason. Yes, Hanna, yes. That was the way to catch up to A.

"Oral sex is not gross", Hanna argued heatedly too. "It's just sex, so stop acting like it's grossing you out, because it obviously isn't. And, besides, if you weren't so red and mysterious, I wouldn't be trying to find out, you know. You just kill me with your weird silences and your red ears."

"Whatever", Spencer said, staring intently at the Di Laurentis' house.

"I'm getting bored of you two", Aria cut in again, slouching down in her seat. "Can you at least give her a detail, even if it's a lie, so she will just shut up?"

"No."

"Okay, I will. Hanna, they touched each other's boobs. Can we start spying now?"

Both Hanna and Spencer looked at Aria as if she was crazy.

"Sorry to disappoint on this one, Aria, but that's been happening since basically the day after we started dating", Spencer said, and yes, she was easy, because she shouldn't even say these things, but she couldn't help herself every time she needed to close someone's mouth, even if it was Aria's. She turned to look at Hanna, who had a look a profound amusement. "Now you got to know something, Hanna. Leave me alone."

"I'm not Aria. I knew you were already doing that."

"I swear I'm gonna kill you two". It wasn't that often that Aria lost her nerve. "I don't care what you're doing. I only care about you loving each other. And whatever you do to prove it, you know, just do it and stop talking about it! So, Hanna, just shut up and live with it. Spencer, stop getting red. Let's get out of the car and do this thing already!"

"Easy there, tiger", Hanna said. "I know all that Ezra-loving abstinence is ruining your life, but there's no reason to get crazy about this. I do think Spencer needs to express herself about the things she's going through. Poor girl needs to say why she's getting so red."

Spencer finally decided to resort to Aria's last option: an obvious, sarcastic lie. "I accidentally saw her naked in the shower. Like that time you got to see Caleb's  _ass_ , you remember?"

"It wasn't only his ass", Hanna replied, her eyes and her smile sending little flashy lights. "And I don't really care, actually. I agree with Aria, the most important thing is that you love each other and stuff. I'm just not gonna be all corny about it and say it."

"You just said it."

Hanna rolled her eyes.

"Okay, I'm getting out of the car". Aria opened the door and stepped out. "Spencer, come on. You don't think I'm doing this alone, right?"

Spencer opened her own door, but didn't quite come out yet. "If I let you alone you'd probably end up pregnant with Jason's baby".

Aria gave her an offended, dirty look, and Spencer laughed before actually realizing that they were going to break in Alison and Jason Di Laurentis' house. And in Maya's house, come to think of it. It  _had_  been Maya's house for a while. This place seemed to be romantically linked to Emily. Maybe she should move in here. As some sort of statement of purpose.

All of a sudden she saw Hanna's and Aria's faces expectantly waiting for her to make a move. She really did need to stop thinking about Emily for a while.

Emily, go. Go away for  _a little while_  if you're not here to help. Your image is going to get us killed. Or imprisoned.

"Okay, Han, you stay here", she started to explain the plan to Hanna. "Whatever you see, and I don't care what, but whatever person you see, you call us on the phone so we can get out. Understood?"

"Okay, if I see a hooded person I call you."

"A hooded person or a Jason person or any other sort of human-looking thing coming close to the house."

Hanna nodded, looking serious for a change. They started to walk towards the Di Laurentis' house, praying that Jason wasn't actually there. But his car wasn't parked in the front yard. The lights were out. He probably was out drinking, no matter what Aria said.

They arrived to the front and checked that all windows were closed, as was the main door. Obviously, people were not leaving their doors opened so they could easily come inside to execute their search for clues and hints. Aria turned around to look at Spencer.

"What now?", she whispered.

"Now we break in", Spencer whispered back as if it was the most obvious thing and the reason why they were  _actually_  there.

"But how do we do it? Do you have some sort of magical power of transformation that allows you to go through the walls?"

"Jesus, Aria, you should go back to the car and write a song about this. You're obviously not made to break in other people's houses like your brother."

Aria sent her another dirty look. "You're being so nice tonight."

"Sorry", Spencer apologized, while she took a long hairpin from her leather bag. "I'm just, you know, kinda moody."

"You miss Em."

"Yeah." Was it that obvious?

"She sent me a text before I came here to meet you guys". Aria observed Spencer's hairpin with a puzzled expression. It was a very long hairpin. "What are you gonna do with that?"

"Wait and see", Spencer winked, but she didn't do anything yet. "What did Em say? In the text?"

"You know, the usual things: keep her safe, don't leave her alone. I think she's freaking out over there."

Spencer sighed. If Emily knew about the powers of distraction she held over her, she'd be freaking out even more. Luckily, she had no idea.

"She loves you. You know that, right?"

Spencer smiled. Although this was probably not the moment for this kind of talk, Aria's way of making sure she already knew that was funny. And very Aria-like.

"I do", she replied, and then she turned around and started to manipulate the hairpin into the lock, as a sort of key. She turned it to the left, she turned it to the right, and she worked it around in circles with a serious, concentrated expression.

"Spencer, that's for your hair, not for cracking doors open."

"Just let me do it", Spencer shushed, so completely focused on her task now that she couldn't hear or see anything. Not even Emily's image in her head.

Suddenly, the door broke open with the sound of a bolt, and Spencer turned around with one of her winning, brilliant smiles. Exceeding grades, kickass personality and classy delinquent traits. No wonder Emily loved her.

"When did you stop being a weirdo to become this really scary person?", Aria whispered, her eyes wide open while she tried to steal a glance at the dark inside of Jason's hall and living room.

Spencer smiled even more brilliantly now, although she'd been called a weirdo. That was a new one. But she was so happy to hear the scary thing again. "I study a lot."

"I thought you studied useless things like history and advanced chemistry. Not this."

Spencer pushed the front door till it completely opened. "We're in a war, Aria." And with that cryptic comment, she stepped inside the darkness of the house, and Aria followed.

The living room was completely deserted. They hadn't brought a lantern so they wouldn't be discovered, but the streetlights provided enough light to actually realize that, no matter how hard they tried to look for anything, there was really nothing there. Not even furniture.

So Jason had left Rosewood. When? Either that or he was living in the house without anything.

"When did Jason leave?"

Aria looked at her with questioning eyes that reflected the small, tiny drops of light that came from the street. Her eyes were so big they could work as a lantern. "I had no idea he left", she murmured in the lowest possible voice, as if someone could anyway be living inside the house.

They silently walked to the kitchen, where Spencer opened the fridge to check the actual amount of time that no one had been living there. People could live without furniture, but not without food. There was nothing inside. There was nothing anywhere. Only a box of butter cookies left on the counter. She checked the expiration date, but it wasn't like that could offer a lot of information, because it said they could last until 2014. That was a long time. She'd never wait so long to eat something. She was a little picky about what she ate. But Jason had probably eaten the cookies already, because she could see a half-eaten cookie abandoned in the trash bin. Jason had thrown it in there without care. There wasn't even a trash bag in the bin. She hated it when people got so filthy and careless about hygiene. But still, there was nothing. Nothing that could tell them a clue on where Jason was now or had been. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen him during the past weeks. She'd gotten really, really sloppy regarding her detective work. And she was aware that had to change again, but she couldn't figure out how. It wasn't as if she could just decide on it and forget about the other things that were crawling around in her mind.

No, not again. Not  _here_.

She shut down the thought and she decidedly walked upstairs to the bedrooms. She directed Aria to go check on the master bedroom, while she headed towards what had been Jason's and Ali's bedrooms. Jason's had been completely devoid of anything too. She was expecting to find the same thing in Ali's room, but there she saw a mattress laying on the floor. No sheets, no covers, no blankets. Just a mattress. She froze in fear. Someone had been here (Jason? In Ali's room?) or someone wanted to make them believe that.

Which meant someone knew or guessed they were going to break in the house.

She held her breath while a thousand possible scenarios combined themselves inside her head. One after the other, they rushed, providing different outcomes that she tried to calculate as fast as she could.

She turned around and left the room to grab Aria, who was already in the hallway. She got a grip of her and dragged her to the room without a word, although their eyes were talking to each other, because Aria immediately followed Spencer's grip and darkened, intent stare.

"What's this?", Aria said when she saw the mattress. Her features acquired a pale, ghastly colour.

"Someone's been here."

Yeah, like that was a difficult one to guess.

Spencer grabbed Aria again and drove her to the only room they hadn't checked yet. The upstairs bathroom. It was the only place left.

"We should leave, Spencer", Aria murmured, her voice tremulous with fear. She suddenly felt afraid of that bathroom. She'd never liked being there. It was old, and the pipes made strange noises at night when she stayed to sleep over or when she just sought for refuge at Ali's. Refuge. That was ironic right now. It had been ironic all the way. But she knew that now. She didn't know it before. They didn't know.

Spencer didn't listen. They were already here, they had to check every place.

It was there and they saw it as soon as Spencer opened the door. A message written in glossy, lipsticky red on the bathroom's mirror.

" _The game starts again, bitches_. – A".

Classic A. Spencer knew there was going to be a message. She knew the moment they found the mattress.

The mattress. Spencer grabbed Aria again and quickly forced her to leave the bathroom when Aria was already checking the shower and the cabinet. Maybe A had left something there. But an idea had made its way down to light up Spencer's brainy, weird, cable-circuited head. They returned to Ali's room and Spencer bent down on the mattress, wanting to make sure if it was warm. No, it was cold. Whoever had slept there could have done it weeks, days, hours ago. That was if really  _someone_  had actually slept there at all.

They looked at each other.

"We're missing something", Spencer muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

But there was nothing.

There was nothing.

Except that box of cookies. On the kitchen counter.

She rapidly moved, almost ran, taking Aria's hand in hers on their way down the stairs.

The box was still there. She approached it breathily and opened it. She wondered why she hadn't opened it before. Probably because she thought it was just a box of cookies that Jason had left there.

Inside there seemed to be some pictures. Her fingers moved so fast that she was rather clumsy when she confirmed they were pictures of Emily. One of the pictures fell to the floor and Aria picked it up, her face still ghastly and puzzled.

"Em and Ali."

An old picture of the two of them. Emily looked definitely younger then, her features both smooth and lively like they were now, but somehow sweeter, more innocent. The same secret in her eyes and in her smile, though. Ali smiled secretively too, blonde and confident and a little wicked. Spencer hated the picture instantly.

She checked the other two pictures. Emily and Maya. The one A had sent both to Hanna and to Emily's mom to out her.

Spencer tried to forget about the knot that was forming in her stomach, which was not of fear. She'd seen both pictures before. Ali's one, years ago. Maya's one, months ago. No one meant anything to her. Not anymore.

But A had a sense of humour.

If this was directed to inspire her jealousy, it was already too late. Ali was dead. Maya was out of the game. The game was hers.

A had a sense of humour, but Spencer had a brain and a heart that was beating solidly, albeit now too fast.

Unless this meant something else.

Something against Emily.

She quickly lowered her head to take a look at the third picture. A picture of herself. Two years ago, approximately. She also looked a lot younger, and kind of weird too, now that she thought about it. She was playing a hockey game and had a fierce expression while she stroke the ball. Did she really look that ugly when she played? Someone should've told her about this so she could try fixing it.

A phone beeped and they both jumped. It was Aria's, whose face turned now paler.

"Is it Hanna?", Spencer stupidly asked. Of course it wasn't Hanna. Hanna would call, not text.

" _You should take better care of your dumbest friend_ ", Aria read aloud, her eyes wide in terror. "Who's…?"

They ran in a panic after that. Both of them.

Coming out of the house, they saw Spencer's car across the street. The window to the driver's seat had been broken, but at least they caught a glimpse of Hanna's blondness while they desperately ran to the car. Running, screaming Hanna's name, thinking in a rush what A could've done to harm Hanna again, Spencer had the weirdest idea that A was really stupid if he/she/it really considered Hanna to be the dumbest one of them.

Hanna got out of the car, looking dumbfounded and shocked. Her designer jeans were covered by fragments of glass that had blown from the window when it'd been hit.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL?", Aria yelled, immediately reaching out to her in order to confirm Hanna had not suffered any damage. Only a single drop of blood stained her index finger, but she'd probably cut herself when she was trying to wipe the glasses away.

"DID YOU SEE ANYONE?" Spencer frenzied, terrier-like bark sounded more as a threat, while she checked if any other window had been broken. "Anything? DID YOU SEE A?"

Hanna looked still dumbfounded, but after seeing them she could at least recover her voice. "WHY DID YOU TAKE SO LONG? I've been sitting here for ages!"

"WAS IT A?"

What a question. Of course it was A. The real question was: did you see anything that could help us determine the identity of A? But she knew already the answer was no. She could see it in Hanna's face. The same way she couldn't say anything about A when she was attacked by Ian in the bell tower and A appeared out of the blue to save her life and kill Ian.

She hadn't been able to say anything about A either.

She'd been terrified.

"I don't know! I didn't see anything! I don't even know what hit me!"

"We told you to call us!", Aria screamed.

"I didn't see anything, Aria! Just a shadow and then the window broke all over me!", Hanna screamed back. "And I'm fine, thanks for asking!"

They looked at each other and tried to calm down.

"Are you hurt?", Spencer made an effort to drop her stressed tone. It didn't quite work, but at least she didn't yell now. She took Hanna's hand in her hand and inspected her finger, although Aria had already done that. "Did A say something to you?"

"No! I was just scared to death  _after_  the window broke."

Aria leaned against the car in both relief and terror.

"Goddammit!", Spencer yelled again in frustration. "Why does this always happen to us?"

"Well, did you find something in there?", Hanna asked, another yell in her throat. "At least I'd be hurt and scared for a reason!"

"You're not hurt, Han", Aria assured, the first to recover calmness. "It's okay."

They breathed, inhaling the air of their evil town.

"We found this", Spencer now waved the pictures in her hands. They were wrinkled after suffering from the panicked run. "And a message."

"The party starts again, bitches", Aria recited it to Hanna, who took the pictures in her hands.

"What are these?" She inspected every picture. "Emily. Is Emily in danger?"

"I don't know!", Spencer couldn't really calm down yet. They'd been so close. A must have been there the whole time. A and his/her/its shadow. "We're all in danger! We got a text about you and we were scared to death something happened to you!"

"I'm fine", Hanna said, finally finding  _her_  normal tone of voice, and she leaned to touch Spencer's arm. "And you here? What does this mean?"

"I don't know."

"A joke about Emily's love life?", Hanna offered. Yes, she was herself again.

"Guys, there's something here", Aria said, taking the last picture from Hanna's hand. The one with Spencer playing hockey. "Another message."

"Give it to me."

Aria handed the picture to Spencer. On the back there was, indeed, another message. This one was written in normal, printed characters.

"What does it say?", Hanna asked, her voice shaking again.

" _Got your hockey stick, Spencer. And guess whose blood's in it. You're going to jail_. – A".

Spencer went pale this time, all signs of previous pink and red colours gone for the night.

Her hockey stick.

She looked closer at the picture.

She used a different hockey stick now. The one in the picture was the one Toby had found buried and that her father had burned, probably because he also suspected she was Alison's or someone else's murderer. Or because of some other reason. But this hockey stick A was talking about? Which one? It had to be the one she was using now.

But she kept it safe at home.

Although she hadn't played in a while. And then she'd been out of Rosewood.

Could that be the one that A had stolen?

"Spencer, what hockey stick?", Hanna asked again, freaking out. "Is that Dr. Sullivan's blood A's talking about?"

"We don't know if Dr. Sullivan's dead."

That was the only thing she could say right now. Her voice sounded grave, low already. But it didn't sound normal. It sounded exhausted, mournful and a little scared. The blow had come. But it might be a bluff again. And what did those pictures of Emily mean?

She had to think. She had to force herself to think.

There was definitely some kind of joke about Emily's love life. And then about her and her hockey stick, and the blood. Guess whose blood. Alison's blood? Maya's blood? Even A wasn't as crazy as to kill Maya just to incriminate her. Dr. Sullivan's blood? That was the one she was being persecuted by the police for.

"We need to get out of here", Aria said, and approached the car, but stopped when she realized no one should sit on the driver's seat, which was still covered by glass.

There was a thick silence.

"Call Em", Hanna ordered Spencer. "I'm gonna go to your house to get a vacuum thingy to clean up this mess."

"A vacuum cleaner won't do", Spencer said, now looking dumbfounded herself. "You'll have to bring the broom in the garden."

"Then I'll bring that. Call Emily."

"Now?" She didn't know what to tell her. How to tell her. She was going to freak out too. And she was far away, in Texas.

"Yes, now. She's waiting to know if we're okay. Especially you. So call her now."

Spencer nodded as Hanna started to walk away. Aria offered her phone, but Spencer refused to spend her money and took her own out of the leather bag where she carried her detective instruments. Yes, she had to tell her. She was probably dying to know something, waiting by her phone all the time during the night, unable to call so she wouldn't disturb them during their always dangerous and not-so-fun sleuthing, spying activities.

Spencer knew what Emily was going to say. She was going to say that they both knew the blow was coming.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by a line in "Daniel", song by Bat For Lashes.


	7. On The Spot

"We knew the blow was gonna come."

Emily repeated the statement, her voice a little calmer now that Spencer was calling her from her own room at home.

Spencer didn't say anything. They'd cleaned up the mess in the street and inside her car and now they were all staying at her house. She'd already searched for her hockey stick. It wasn't there. A had stolen it, most probably.

The night was warm and starry outside the window. Spencer leaned her forehead against it while she contemplated the DiLaurentis' house in the distance. So much for warm, starry summer nights when they could, more or less, forget about A's existence while they drove somewhere to have normal, easy dates. So much for black-night eyes, for darker-than-holes, eating, absorbing Emily eyes in Texas, for remembering, for expecting, for planning, for searching for beds and solitary corners and direct-in-the-eye conversations. So much for everything they actually cared about and loved. They'd been taking a break and they knew it. And A knew it. Now they were back in the game. She took a deep sigh, feeling exhausted again.

"Yeah, I know", she finally said. She'd already said it before.

There was a silence on the other end of the line. Spencer could hear Emily's breathy body through the phone, which made her physical absence more painful. In a way she was thankful she wasn't here. At least she was safe over there. But, at the same time, feeling her so close on the phone made it more difficult. Sometimes she just preferred not to have any contact. Not that she could actually make it  _without_  contact. She needed at least that little bit of contact. But just hearing her voice or her sharp, anxious breathing on the phone gave her a deeper sense of loneliness, because she wasn't here. She wasn't, even if she could hear her metallic, slightly distorted little voice through the phone.

"I'm getting a flight back tomorrow."

It was as if Emily had understood everything that was going through her mind. But Spencer had already planned and calculated that outcome. She'd had time while they cleaned and came back to her place to have something to eat and talk about what had happened.

"No way. You're staying there", Spencer firmly warned. "You  _have_  to stay there."

"I said I'm flying back tomorrow", Emily insisted. Whenever she spoke like that, her usually calm, smooth girly voice sounded a little hoarse. Now she also sounded strained. The effects of the Rosewoodian tornado had reached Texas. "My parents will understand."

"No, they won't understand because you can't tell them the truth", Spencer argued. She'd already thought about this and she was determined to keep Emily from coming back to Rosewood before the official date of her return. "And what are you gonna say? That I'm having a teenage crisis? I don't want them blaming me for this."

She heard Emily breathe deeply.

"They won't blame you, they'll blame  _me_ ", Emily tried, knowing all too well it wouldn't exactly be like that. Their parents were already having a hard time with her short summer stay, and they only half believed Emily was doing it so she wouldn't miss any of her swim training. "I  _have_  to go back, Spencer. I can't let you guys handle this by yourselves."

Spencer was sure Emily was talking about all of them partly because she felt responsible for the others and partly to try to conceal her real concern, which was Spencer and the possibility of her imprisonment. But she had this part of the conversation already figured out. She wasn't letting her come back before the official date unless something really big happened. It was only five more days. There was time until the court hearing too. It was all right.

"You can", she assured. "We're all good. It's only five more days."

"You don't sound like you're so good", Emily responded. "You know I can do whatever I wanna do, right? You can't stop me."

"I can't, but your parents can", Spencer argued back. "And I swear if you come here I'll personally get you back there to spend the rest of the week with them."

Emily gave a sigh. A deep, helpless sigh of surrender. She was probably having a really hard time there. But at least she was safe in Texas.

"Em, it's just five days. We'll be fine. Nothing big happened."

It was half a lie, half the truth. Nothing big had happened. Something big could happen. But she had to stay there with her parents. In actuality, the best thing for her would be to stay there forever and not come back to Rosewood at all, although that left Spencer livid whenever she thought about it.

Anyway it wasn't her call. It was Emily's call, and her parents' call. And A's call, in a way, in a totally twisted and wicked way. A had said he/she/it wanted Emily in Rosewood. However, Spencer refused to think of A as an ally in this case. Especially since his/her/its more obvious intention was to bring them down.

"You have to promise me you're not gonna do anything stupid again."

"I didn't do anything stupid."

"Spencer. You have to  _promise_  me that."

This time it was Spencer who sighed. She had another little excursion planned to the DiLaurentis' for the night. Before the day broke, and probably right after she hanged up on Emily, they had to go back for a second. But she couldn't tell Emily about that or she'd probably fly back in a craze of anger and anxiety the moment after. She'd even hitchhike a ride back or run all the way to Rosewood if she was worried enough. Emily could be so stern sometimes.

"I'll try."

She opted for a vague answer, too afraid to lie but also to tell the truth.

"You'll  _try_?" Emily's voice high-pitched again like it'd high-pitched when Spencer had first told her about their adventure tonight. "No, you don't try. You  _do_. If you want me to stay here then you don't get to come out of your house to do any other crazy thing against A."

She, indeed, had a temper. And not only when she was drunk and heartbroken or when she had to confront Jenna.

"It's not against A", Spencer tried to explain. "It's just to get a couple of things we forgot at Jason's when we ran out to see Han."

"You forgot what?"

She sounded scared again. Damn. Spencer was hoping to avoid that conversation, but she guessed she wasn't handling this part of the information so well.

"The box. And the cookie."

Yes, it did sound weird. Spencer was well aware of it. Even ridiculous. But she'd talked to Aria and Aria seemed to agree that they should get those two _clues_ back in their hands to investigate them. They had left them in the house when they'd run to save Hanna.

"The cookie?"

Now Emily didn't sound scared. She'd probably thought they'd left something incriminating in the house when she told her that they had to go back.

The mention of the cookie just startled and perhaps scandalized her a little. That was what Spencer heard in her voice, anyway.

Spencer cleared her throat to prepare the explanation.

"I just thought maybe we can trace the box back to someone. I mean, we took for granted that it was Jason's, but it had the pictures inside so maybe whoever took it left some other sign. We left in such a rush that I can't really remember", she explained, knowing it all sounded crazy. Now came the best part of it all. "And we could try to find some DNA in the cookie. Perhaps. If we're lucky."

She was sounding as a character from a CSI franchise show. A really stupid one. It was a really, really long shot. But – it was their only chance. They couldn't get much out of the photos. Ali's one had been Ali's and could have easily gone to Jason. The picture with Maya was irrelevant; it'd already been around long enough. And her picture had been stolen along with her hockey stick.

"Oh, so you keep now a DNA kit at home?"

She heard distinctive sarcasm, of the kind Emily wasn't so prone to offer. Lately she was becoming more confident, though, also in the sarcastic department. Spencer would have felt proud if it weren't because it was usually directed at her.

"No." Spencer cleared her throat again and unconsciously chew on her lower lip. This part was going to be more difficult. "I know it sounds absurd, but if we could just figure out who bit that freaking cookie, and maybe it  _wasn't_  Jason after all, we could at least have some kind of idea…"

"Are you listening to yourself? You're talking about a cookie! It's not gonna work." Spencer separated the phone from her ear a little. She was almost regretting the day she'd told Emily that she was obligated to tell her everything that came to her mind, in whatever tone of voice was necessary. "How are you even gonna do it?"

"I'm gonna take it to the hospital."

"For a check-up?"

More sarcasm.

"To Wren." There came a silence on the other end. A startled silence. "He can try to run some DNA tests on it. Or so I figure."

The only answer was more of the same startled silence.

She heard her breathe on the line, though. She was probably trying to think of what she was going to say now. Spencer could almost listen to the different cogs that were moving inside of Emily's head, all her neuronal connections suddenly illuminating her brain while she tried to shut down certain answers and to verbalize the ones that she considered more appropriate. It had been a while since she actually bit her tongue before speaking to her.

They hadn't really discussed Wren after they started dating. It hadn't really been necessary. But he was obviously not Emily's favorite guy.

"Wren."

That was what Emily finally managed to utter, a mere confirmation of the name. She'd gone from a startled silence to a startled voice now. It was a great leap.

"Yes, Wren. He's the only person I can ask such a weird favour to."

"You're gonna take the cookie to Wren."

Another confirmation of the plan with the name followed, sarcasm and surprise mixed in the voice now. There was also a trace of something else. She was probably trying to repress it, but Spencer could certainly hear it even through Emily's effort to hide it.

"Em, nothing's gonna happen. It's all right."

She didn't really know what she was talking about now. A, the possibility of going to jail or Wren. Or the next midnight excursion to get the cookie.

"It's not all right", she fought back angrily. "Hanna almost got killed tonight, you're probably going to jail in two weeks and now you're telling me you're going back to  _that_  house to get a cookie so you can take it to  _Wren_  to run some stupid DNA tests that will only prove that Jason ate it? It's  _not_  all right, Spencer, and you're obviously losing your mind without me there to take the weirdest ideas out of it."

That bad temper again. She'd find it hot, but it wasn't the moment.

"Hanna didn't almost get killed", Spencer tried to reason. "She's all right. And I'm not going to jail". Possibly. Maybe. Luckily. "And I know it sounds stupid but right now it's my only shot. That and the box."

"It's not gonna work!", Emily repeated in exasperation.

"Way to keep a positive mind, Emily."

There was sarcasm in her own voice now and, as a result, another silence followed. This time it wasn't a startled one. It was awkward.

They couldn't afford to argue about these things now. Especially about Wren. Who was Wren anyway? Spencer wondered if Emily was actually getting so mad over the whole A-cookie thing or over the possibility of meeting with Wren. There was something about Wren that somehow Emily didn't tolerate. And it was Emily they were talking about. The most graceful, most sympathetic person in the world. The only person who might give A a chance to  _speak a word_  if they ever got to know who it was.

Not only that, Emily's problem with Wren  _had_  to do with her. Wren had actually helped Emily when he agreed to silence the HGH results so nobody would know and Emily wouldn't be kicked out of the swim team – and deprived of any chance at a swimming scholarship. So, in truth, he'd behaved well with Emily and Emily was in debt with him. The reason why she couldn't stand him was Spencer, and only Spencer, and no one else.

"Is this about Wren?", she decided to ask her. "Or are you mad at me because of what A is doing to all of us?"

She was a little unfair in that one, but she was tired and it came out just like that.

Emily's response was immediate, though, almost as if she was already expecting it. "What do you think, Spencer? Am I  _worried_  about you getting killed or about you getting kissed?"

Wow. She'd definitely gotten much better at arguing. And this time the voice was so filled with real irritation that it managed to strike Spencer back, so she decided to back off a little.

Obviously, Emily was worried about her safety, not mad at her. She'd spent the night freaking out. She was far away. And she'd have to spend the rest of the week like that. Maybe she hated Wren, but this wasn't entirely about him.

Spencer left the window and came to sit on her bed.

"Em, it's gonna be fine. I'm taking Aria to Jason's. It'll just take five minutes. The front door's already open", she assured, with a pitch of inner satisfaction and pride. "And regarding Wren, it's fine too. I won't let him get close. He won't try anything. We'll be in a public hospital."

"Yeah, like that's kept him from trying in the past", Emily answered, bitterness thick in her words. "Why can't you just stay home until I get there?"

"Because we need to start figuring this out", Spencer replied. Then she decided to go back to the Wren thing, just to reassure her. "Even if he tried, it won't matter. I won't take it. Okay?"

"You're gonna do it anyway. It's not like I have a say."

"You do have a say."

"You were probably gonna lie to me about it."

"I wasn't." Well, she was going to sort of keep it silent until she found the moment to speak about it. As a post-factual conversation. When it was already done. "It's not like I can lie to you about things anymore. A'd probably text you all the information and you'd be mad as hell."

She tried to sound funny but she realized it did sound kind of wrong after she'd already said it.

"Oh, so that's the only reason you're telling me?" Emily was faster than her to pick up on the mistake. "So A won't text me about what you're doing wrong while I'm here?"

"That… didn't come out right. I didn't mean it like that."

"And how did you mean it?"

"I meant to say that I wasn't going to lie to you. I was just… trying to keep you from getting anxiety attacks like the ones you're having now."

Anxiety attacks and  _jealousy_  attacks, she might add.

"So you're saying you were doing it to  _protect_  me? I guess that changes everything now."

Now she could hear a distinctive tone of mock in Emily's voice. Apparently she'd managed to be funny after all. Thank god they weren't actually having a fight over this.

"Yeah. That's it."

God, she missed her.

There was another silence, and Spencer could literally  _see_  Emily sitting on her own bed far away in her room in Texas, feeling the same exact thing she was feeling now. Thinking the exact same thought. Yearning for the exact same touch.

She wanted to reach her hand through the phone and touch her face. Too bad not even a videoconference could actually provide that kind of comfort.

"You know you shouldn't try anything else tonight, right?" All traces of sarcasm, anger or even mock had left Emily's voice. She just sounded resigned and sweet at the same time.

"Aria's coming with me."

"I don't like it."

Spencer didn't know what to say. She knew why Emily wouldn't like it. If it were her on the other end, she'd be going nuts and trying every way to stop her. But it had to be this way.

"You promise me you'll call me the minute you're back from Jason's, okay?", Emily finally agreed. "And I'll be calling every ten minutes for the next five days."

"You can take half an hour to eat and get a shower, you know", she joked. Emily didn't laugh, though. "I'll call the second we're done."

Yet another silence filled the telephone speakers with its thick, overwhelming tremor. This time it was neither startled nor awkward. There were too many things in it. There was the yearn, but also the concern.

They were both worried. And they were apart. And it sucked big time.

"Do you think I should call Maya?" Emily was the first one to speak again.

"No. I mean, you can if you want to make sure she's fine." She'd been thinking a lot about the meaning of those pictures. "But I don't think A's actually gonna try anything against Maya."

Besides, if Emily called Maya again, wouldn't that confuse the hell out of Maya? Spencer didn't want that. For Maya's sake.

Yeah, for Maya's sake.

"I agree", she heard Emily quietly say on the other end.

Her voice sounded sweet but a little muffled, almost as if she was laying down on the bed now, probably against the pillow or a cushion. The image brought other memories to Spencer. Memories that only made her want the physical touch with a little more intensity.

"I think it's either a really bad joke or a warning about us."

Emily had seen the pictures in her own cell phone. They'd texted her the images. "I think it's a warning." She sounded convinced. "About us being together, not about us as different people."

"Yeah, possibly."

"It could be a really bad warning too."

Spencer believed it was a warning as well. A really bad one? She didn't know. Just the usual A stuff. A warning against them being together.

All those bullshitting texts Emily had been getting during the past two months already meant that A was going to try a move to separate them. There was no doubt about that. This was the most logical outcome of the new game A was playing now: he/she/it had to attack them as a couple and not as two friends with different love lives and interests.

"We already knew A'd come after us." She offered her own idea. "I mean, as a couple. Now that we're together."

They agreed on that one.

"Then there's the blood on your hockey stick." This was the real matter of Emily's concern.

And of her own concern.

"It might be a bluff, Em", she offered as a possibility.

"But you don't have your hockey stick."

"Yeah, but what blood, I mean, whose blood is A talking about?", Spencer thought aloud. "It can't be Ali's blood. I got that hockey stick long after she was gone."

"Can you prove it?"

"I guess I could, yeah. I'd have to look into it."

She thought, if that was the case, her mother could most probably prove that particular hockey stick had nothing to do at all with Alison's murder.

"And Dr. Sullivan?" Emily asked the most serious, logical question. The one they feared the most.

"We don't know if Dr. Sullivan's dead". She'd repeated this statement so much that it already felt as a stock phrase. What did you do today? We don't know if Dr. Sullivan's dead. How was the trip to Texas? We don't know if Dr. Sullivan's dead. Did you two have sex? We don't know if Dr. Sullivan's dead. Crazy shit. "Even if it was Dr. Sullivan's blood, there's no corpse. They can't do anything against me without a corpse."

She really didn't want to think Dr. Sullivan was dead.

But maybe she was? Maybe that was the blood A was mentioning?

"But they could try you or at least hold you for bail, right?"

"I'm not sure."

"What if there  _is_  a corpse?"

Yeah, that was the scariest thing of all. She had no answer for that.

She sensed Emily grow nervous on her side of the line.

"If there's a corpse, we're totally screwed, right?", Emily asked again.

"I haven't done anything, Em. And there's no corpse anyway. I don't think she's dead."

"Then where the hell is she?", Emily said, again exasperated. Somehow she was realizing now this was the key that A was holding against them. Until this moment, she hadn't really believed Dr. Sullivan was dead, either. But now she was starting to doubt her own belief. "That's what A's trying to do. It's using Dr. Sullivan to keep you on the line with this."

"We already knew that", Spencer replied.

"Yeah, but… not like this."

There might be a corpse.

Spencer laid down in bed too. "Let's not overthink this too much, all right?" She was the one who'd overthink it. But she didn't want Emily going crazy about it. "It's just another stage in the game."

"Nice. I'm dying to get there."

She was really getting a lot of practice in sarcasm during this conversation, and Spencer smiled at the thought while she massaged her head. She was getting a headache after all the arguing and the screaming and the running tonight.

"So Aria's spending the night there?" Emily spoke again with her usual, sweeter tone.

"Yep. Han too."

"Good", she seemed truly relieved. "Is Han really all right?"

"She's fine. She was just totally scared."

"And Aria? How come her parents let her spend the night out?"

"Because she's spending it with me, and apparently I'm a person worthy of trust and respect."

"Weren't you the person who Mrs. Montgomery thought was kissing the English teacher?", Emily teased.

"Yeah, there was that", Spencer chuckled. "But now they know the truth, and ever since I'm dating you I'm even more trustworthy and lovable than ever. It seems I've acquired all the virtues that I used to lack thanks to you."

"So make good use of them", Emily laughed back. "You don't want to lose that again."

"That's for sure." She was glad they were now able to joke a little. "Now I'm not just the overanxious, uptight, slutty Hastings child."

She heard Emily's gentle laugh on the phone.

"You seem to be saying that word a lot lately. Is there a reason why?"

"Which word?"

"Slutty. And all its derivatives."

She felt a sudden clench of arousal in her stomach at the tease. There was that word, and she remembered saying it during their restroom experience.

To think that she'd been thinking  _only_  about that experience for almost every hour since she'd gotten back to Rosewood, at least until the moment she entered Jason's house. She felt like she was living in two separate worlds. One was normal: it involved her interests, her dreams, her games, that were basically lately reduced to Emily and all that had to do with them. Another one was the scary, nightmarish world she was living in after Alison's death: it involved the clues, the hints, the adrenaline-filled runs, the murder weapons and the murder threats. Emily lived with her in both worlds.

But she just wanted to return to the normal one. And to stay there. And to find a bed there.

"Yeah, good point", she teased back. "I wonder why too."

She sensed Emily was going to say something back to her when she heard Aria through the door. Both Hanna and Aria were downstairs. They had agreed to give them a little privacy. But the conversation was running for too long if they ever wanted to get back to Jason's to get those absurd items that maybe in the other world would develop their investigation.

Aria called her out and the tease was interrupted. Spencer felt let down, but somehow energized after the talk. Aria talked a little on the phone to Emily, and Emily gave her (again) specific orders about how long they were allowed to be out until she either called the police herself or made Hanna call them. Aria obeyed and agreed, making faces to Spencer all along. Emily was really becoming a sort of control freak after all. The times when she would just be led along were over. Finally they decided to hang up, not before another teasing warning was called on Spencer about how Emily hoped to be informed about everything regarding the cookie, especially after its trip to the hospital to get the treatment. Yes, the warning was clear. She probably wasn't joking when she said she'd be calling every ten minutes. And, indeed, Spencer was sure she'd try to find out every small detail about that interview with Wren if it ever actually took place. She'd better behave and not flirt at all or she'd be in great trouble. In any case, it wasn't as if she was going to flirt. She didn't flirt with anyone, only with Emily. Although she couldn't be so sure about when she was flirting: sometimes she noticed it, but there were other times when she just wouldn't realize she was doing it. It must be her smoking hot sexiness at work. The one Emily talked about. The one that drove buses of people from all around the country to Rosewood only to be around her. It just came naturally. But, no, all jokes aside, Wren was totally, completely prohibited even as an innocent flirt. Besides, there was never anything innocent about flirting with Wren and it couldn't happen anymore or she'd be screwed. So no flirting. She'd be stonefaced, rigid, cold; but kind and nice as well in order to ask for a favor. That was going to be difficult: how could she manage to be both cold and nice to a person she was used to sort of being flirty around every time they met? But she'd have to find a way. She couldn't screw things up. So she made a promise to herself. Whatever happened, there'd be no flirting back. No flirting back. Anyway she had to get the cookie and the box first. They had to get down to that already.

They hanged up.

In her Texas room, Emily rolled over on her bed in order to face the ceiling. She blinked a couple of times, trying to fight the slight wave of sleepiness that was invading her already. She had to stay awake until Spencer and Aria made it back from Jason's –  _again_. In her opinion, it was a stupid idea to go back and the whole DNA-cookie plan seemed insane, but she knew Spencer was not going to listen, especially if she already had Aria's backup. Aria was a pretty sensible person, except when it came to romantic liaisons and to entering into conspiratorial modes with Spencer. Well, maybe she was also a little bit like that. She'd probably be dragged to get the cookie too if she was there. Spencer was the leader for a reason. Sometimes she did crazy things, and they all followed her like sheep. Even Hanna.

Wren. She didn't like that at all. She thought she'd made it clear to Spencer, but she didn't want to push it. She didn't want to come across as suspicious or extremely jealous, and she knew she had no reasons to distrust Spencer, even though the whole thing completely got on her nerves. Spencer seemed to be either amused or indignant at her jealousy over Wren when it was really the most natural thing that could happen to anyone. The guy could not be trusted at all: he'd shown no respect whatsoever for his own relationships or for Spencer's ones; there was no reason to think he'd respect this particular one either. As for Spencer… well, she knew Spencer wouldn't do anything right now, but still, she didn't want that encounter to happen  _at all_.  _Ever_. Especially with her in Texas. She felt trapped. And she'd feel trapped for five more days, pretending she was interested in all those summery activities her parents had prepared for her with the whole goodness of their parental hearts.

A part of her wished they wouldn't find the crazy cookie anymore.

Another part of her wished they'd find the crazy cookie and that A would send her pictures of the encounter with Wren so she could check everything was all right. Although, come to think of it, A would only send her pictures  _if_  something was  _not_  right, so she'd better not get any. Because, if there was something she didn't like about them, she swore she'd catch the first flight to Philadelphia and would dress up as A for once to chop Wren into little British pieces.

Yes, she was extreme when it came to this guy. And she was anxious about everything in general. And she wanted to leave Texas. And she wanted to help the girls. And she needed to see for herself if Hanna was fine, even though she'd talked to her on the phone before talking to Spencer the second time. And she needed to protect Spencer from her own crazy ideas or at least to accompany her when she executed them.

And she wanted to kiss her.

But she had to wait and trust and prepare herself for the fight. Because there was going to be a fight against A once she went back. That was crystal clear.

Spencer was not going to jail. Not if she could stop it.

She thought about the pictures. Opening the text Aria had sent her, she looked again at them. That picture with Ali had been taken just a little bit after she kissed her the first time. Hanna had taken it. It amazed her how dumb and innocent she looked compared to the cool, wise smile Ali showed. But Ali was always like that. In all truth, she wasn't probably as wise as they believed her to be and that was probably the reason why she was dead. As for herself, she wasn't that dumb either. There was always a part of her who knew that Ali was using her recently discovered homosexual tendencies to play her and keep her by her side, the same way she used the others' weaknesses for the same purposes. With her it'd been homosexuality; with Spencer it'd been ambition. And, still, even though she was partially aware of the real reason behind Ali's actions, she liked it. She allowed it. She believed she was in love. She believed she'd never love anyone like that. She was happy just to be the special one, even if that meant being left on a constantly hot-and-cold run for a heart that'd never be hers. She didn't care. She took it and loved it and cared for it. She took everything Ali wanted to give, good or bad. She gave all she was allowed to offer. It was sort of pathetic and she looked at her own sweet, innocent face with the knowledge that she possessed now that she was in love for real with a person who actually seemed to love her back. Well, not seemed. Who loved her back. She loved her back. Spencer loved her back.

She sighed, opening the picture with Maya. Yeah, it was clear A was sending this to say Emily and Spencer wouldn't make it as a couple. There were two pictures of her with _girlfriends_ (Ali had not been one, but she'd been her first love) who had disappeared: Ali had been murdered and Maya had been sent to the wild by her mother, not by A, but still. A had outed her relationship with Maya to her mother, so in a way it'd been A's doing. The third picture showed Spencer hitting a ball with a killer attitude. Scary as well as cute. Pure Spencer. Even though Spencer was on her own in the picture, Emily thought the message there was also meant for her. It said Spencer was going to be sent to jail.

It meant all her girlfriends would disappear, would go away. All chances of love, either unrequited or actual, reciprocated love. All of it was meant to go.

But this wasn't a chance anymore.

It was real love.

And it was leaving over her dead body. A'd better know that.

The message was for  _her_ , not for Spencer or for Hanna or for Aria. It was for her.

She realized in a sudden, abrupt manner as she sat up on the bed again.

They kept thinking this was about Spencer and Dr. Sullivan but the message was really for her. A wanted to say something to her.

Obviously the main reason behind that was still unclear and she couldn't really understand it, although it had to be related to Spencer as well, to Hanna and Aria and to Alison's murder in a mysterious way.

She started typing a text to Spencer saying she knew now what the pictures meant. They meant she should say goodbye to her girlfriends, goodbye to love.

Goodbye my ass.

While she was typing she got a text too. Maybe Spencer and Aria had already gotten back from their second adventure at Jason's?

The text had a blocked remittent, though. That was A.

Her heart jumped, but she read the text with defiant eyes.

" _Weakest link or heroine? You're finally on the spot, Em. Don't let me down._  – A"

 


	8. The Darkest Place

She shouldn't have dealt with it this way. She wasn't supposed to deal with it  _this_  way. She was strong now, and brave, and she believed in herself and in everything good that was inside her.

And, really, at the very beginning she was brave about it. She was prepared for whatever she could do to stop it. She could've searched, if she'd been in Rosewood, every house, every place looking for A, looking for clues, looking in the eyes of every possible murderer or stalker or dangerous person who lived in their town, trying to catch that spark of darkness that she thought A should have, although she hadn't really been able to see it in anyone before, not like that, not so dark and mean and bad. Maybe she wasn't really used to looking for that kind of darkness. She was used to understanding the kind of bad feeling that made all of them behave badly and cruelly sometimes; not that she excused that kind of behavior, or even really understood it, even in herself whenever she felt like that (which wasn't  _that_  often anyway), but she was used to  _trying_  to put it in context, and of course she knew people like Jenna might have had her reasons to hate all of them, to seek revenge against Alison and against them, or to wish them the worst. She was blind, after all, and it was their fault. And Alison had behaved badly too, and was dead now, and it was too hard a punishment, because, yes, she was  _dead_  and death had no repair beyond it. Even Spencer had behaved badly from time to time, whenever she chose to pick up a suspect and throw all her forces (the whole group, and her intellect) against him or her, but she didn't deserve to go to jail for things she hadn't even been close to doing. Especially because she wasn't even  _that_  good at throwing forces against anyone. She just worked her brains out, pushed herself and the others to the limit, tried to question everybody and everything (except people that she'd never question at all), sneaked around trying to find her suspects' weaknesses, but it was a game too big, too scary for her too. At the end, no, she was just a driving force for all of them, she was the one who was always  _on the spot_ , she was the one who took the falls and who mostly showed her face whenever they were wrong about something (which was  _all the time_ ), and it wasn't fair that she had both A and the police after her, and she was a good person. She was a good person. They were all, fundamentally, good people. But they'd made mistakes. They didn't want to be in this position. They wanted to tell the truth and live their lives. Emily  _knew_  her friends, and she knew this was the only thing they all wanted.

Now, A was a completely different story. She couldn't  _see_  A. Whoever it was, she couldn't see it. She couldn't understand  _a single thing_  about it.

This wasn't a game, no matter what A said in his/her/its messages.

So she waited for the next text. She prepared herself to put her strength to the test so she could pass the audition for teenage heroine of the year that A was staging for her. She waited every day for the next text, but it never came while she was in Texas.

She talked to Spencer on the phone  _constantly_. But it wasn't fun or even romantic, because they were both too eager to know whatever A had to say about this. Spencer basically agreed with her theory about girlfriends, although she was still convinced that the third picture was directed strictly against her. She tried to keep the appearances, tried to look strong, tried to reason and talk and theorize about it, the same way she always did when she was  _really_  worried and obsessed, but Emily could tell she was also scared of whatever A had in mind. The cookie plan hadn't gone well. They'd gone back to the house to find only the box, but no cookie. The cookie had gone missing. Apparently, Spencer was right about that and the cookie had a very important meaning. Emily almost felt guilty that she'd wished for the cookie to go away, since it turned out A had conceded her the wish to stop the encounter with Wren from happening. She felt bad about it, as if her own jealousy had caused the cookie to disappear, although it wasn't her fault. She didn't have that kind of psychic powers yet. But Wren didn't really matter; the cookie did matter and it wasn't there anymore. Perhaps this was also a part of the game. Frustration was part of the game. Impatience. Uncertainty. Isolation.

On the fifth day after A-day, she took the plane and went back to Rosewood. The girls came to pick her up along with Ashley Marin. Happy she was coming back, there was also a high pitch of anxiety inside her, because by now she'd already realized A was waiting for her return too. Spencer took care of everything, arranged a little sleepover at her house, and since Aria and Hanna were there too, they were allowed to sleep in the same room, which turned out to be more of a torture game, this time invented by the Hastings, because how could you sleep peacefully next to a person you wanted to touch when you couldn't really do anything? So they decided Emily would sleep with Hanna and Spencer would sleep with Aria. It made things a little easier, since humans were not born to sleep together when they wanted to do something that was way beyond sleeping.

They discussed A that night. The text. Emily on the spotlight. The weakest link. Dr. Sullivan. Hockey sticks. The dumbest friend (Hanna argued strongly against it). Bluffing.

The text came the day after, when she was already at the Marins', unpacking her stuff. A welcomed her back, only to add " _wanna bet on it?_ " That was it. She understood A was referring to the blood on Spencer's hockey stick. She called Spencer. They discussed it on the phone and they discussed it later when they met in person.

Nothing else happened.

But what was she supposed to do? Pull out a heroic gesture out of nothing at all?

She hated her own capacity to  _just_  wait for things to come. She was impatient, but she felt unable to break the riddle. Was she supposed to stop this just by closing her eyes shut and praying aloud  _we will make it, I will destroy A_  and stuff like that? Was she supposed to rally the streets, vigilante-style, superhero-style, stopping suspicious people in the middle of the night, ransacking Jenna's and Garret's rooms when they were out, or to hack everybody's computers and cell phones and the entire Social Security System and national Bank System to at least find out if Dr. Sullivan was still alive? But she was no Caleb. She was no Spencer. She was just a sixteen-year-old student and swimmer who was considered to be nice and cute by most of the Rosewood population excluding those who were A or homophobes. Was she supposed to run again? Was she supposed to find a solution once she put her running shoes on and started pushing her body further?

She did go running the next morning, but it didn't help clear her mind. She stopped by Ali's house, or rather Jason's house, feeling helpless. It was a normal, burningly ordinary summer day. After observing the house for a while, wondering if she should just go inside – maybe that was the whole point, since she'd missed it the last time – she left for the house across the street to see Spencer and spend the day obsessing about this again. And then, hours after that, when she was of course already alone, the next message came. She should have expected that kind of message. But, at that point, stupidly enough, she was still waiting for a heroic kind of request. Something she could work on. A strategic move where she'd had to find this, do that, play cool, play bad. She could never get the whole point of a monstrous, shadowy ghost whose main purpose was to really, really break them down from the inside.

" _Break her heart or she goes to jail. You have five more days_. – A"

So that was the plan. Five days. The court hearing was in a week.

Heartbreaker and heroine. The roles she was destined to play didn't really suit her.

It was the kind of twisted reasoning that only A could come up with. It was such a nice, perceptive touch to tie both things together: breaking a heart was surely the most wicked way to become the main character of the play, especially if it was the leader's heart, right? Especially if it was Spencer's heart, because Spencer was unbreakable and, at the same time, vulnerable; and she just couldn't, wouldn't go to jail for something she hadn't done. Not if Emily could stop it. Heroine turned villain, and back to heroin again. That was A. That was what A wanted her to do – against Spencer, for Spencer. She was calling Spencer when another text came. " _Keep it a secret_.  _I know you can do that_. – A". Of course, she was expected to shut her mouth up. She already knew that, but she wasn't going to  _do_  it. However, there was a picture attached, so she opened the document feeling dumbfounded and sick, knowing  _that_  picture was the key to her silence.

Dr. Sullivan's body was lying on a linoleum floor.

Her legs and arms were spread in a weird posture, her face turned towards the opposite direction from where the person with the camera was, partially hidden by her dark, slightly tousled hair. Emily's knees trembled at the sight and her heart jumped to her throat, so she had to flee to the bathroom to puke. Once dinner was out of her digestive system, she forced herself to look at the picture again. You couldn't really assure she was dead. She could be, but she could also be unconscious. The part of her face shown in the picture was extremely pale, that was for sure, and she didn't look healthy and good at all. Obviously. That was the point again, right? She looked closer but couldn't see very well, so she downloaded the picture to her laptop and amplified it to be able to appreciate every detail. She had to do it. Her heart wasn't jumping anymore; it was as if it had stopped beating too. Her movements were groggy and zombie-like, and she just felt she had to check every detail before even starting to think about what it all meant. There was a bloody stain in the back of her head, both hidden and mingled with hair, and Emily felt sick again when she amplified the image to look closely at it, trying to decipher if that was the mark of death or just a bloody wound that would heal with the proper treatment.

So that was the blood. That was the blood.

She panicked.

There was a body. There was also blood. And that was Dr. Sullivan.

She hated to panic at night. It was always better to panic in the morning. But during the night you couldn't do anything. You couldn't walk out, run, swim, talk. Besides, she couldn't talk to anyone. She couldn't even go talk to a psychologist like that other time. Well, that was ironic. She'd basically put Dr. Sullivan and then Spencer in this position when she had run away because she  _was_  the weakest link. With that other text she'd been blackmailed to tell Aria's parents about Mr. Fitz. She had run, she had refused to break down and betray Aria, or any other friend; she'd decided to open up to an adult, it had been  _her_  decision even though they had all gone there looking for her, and they had all finally spoken about it, and they had all asked for help. Only for this. Only to be met by this picture now. Now that Aria's parents  _knew_  about Mr. Fitz, now that she hadn't had to betray Aria, now that she was happy, that she was in love, that she was protecting (well, sort of) Spencer, now it was the moment to be met by this concrete consequence of the whole movement that A had set in motion that night when he/she/it tried to force her to betray Aria. She had to break Spencer. She had to break Spencer to save her from jail. To buy at least some time for her, while they tried to find out what was happening and if Dr. Sullivan was really dead or if this was just another set-up.

It was late at night, and Emily decided she'd run anyway, no matter how late it was.

Her feet touched the soil's hardness through the airy material of her sneakers. The constant, rhythmic blow provided a momentary, scarce sense of relief.

Deserted streets, parked cars, streetlights illuminating the night, a couple of groups of people coming home after a party or a dinner or a get-together, teenagers sitting against a car, talking about other boys and girls, outside of a store, maybe waiting for someone else to get alcohol for them, wasting their time, laughing and yelling and playing games. She passed all of them, and some of those people glanced back at her solitary, running figure with curiosity, in wonder that someone so young would come out to run at that time of night. No one approached her, though. She supposed that was better. What was she going to say? That she was being blackmailed and forced to break the only thing she actually cared about and that she was trying to desperately save? Like someone could even understand what was going on inside her without actually ending up dead – or kidnapped - or hurt.

She tried to be cold about it.

There was a chance that Dr. Sullivan wasn't dead. The picture was not totally convincing. She was no doctor. She had no idea. She couldn't risk it.

There was a chance she could do this coldly and intelligently. So where was that chance? Why didn't it jump to her eyes and her hands to grab it? How could she find it? Where were her intelligence and her coolness now that she needed them?

There was no way Spencer could ever believe her if she just appeared at her front door to tell her she wanted to break up. Spencer was  _too_  smart. Spencer knew her  _too_  well. Spencer would know it was A. Spencer couldn't believe that in a million years. Spencer was not Samara. She couldn't be fooled with a gross, obvious trap. What in the world did A think she could do to break Spencer's heart if Spencer perfectly knew everything about A and everything about  _her_? A was crazy. There was no way. Not even if she decided to do it.

She stopped where the town ended and the forest begun, out of breath and in muscular, relieving pain. She wanted to go in there. To put herself in danger. To get  _physical_  about this fight and not to think about it.

To pay for her mistake of talking to Dr. Sullivan and maybe sending her to her death.

But, instead, she turned around and went home.

Getting into a fight with a tree or a squirrel wasn't really going to change the way things were for her and for Spencer now; it wasn't going to save Dr. Sullivan either.

She waited for her own brain to illuminate her with a brilliant idea during the next two days. She waited for the chance, she looked for it inside and outside. She tried to forget the image of Dr. Sullivan's bloody head wound. She even snooped around Jenna's house on her own, only to be discovered by Toby's questioning, startled glances that made her leave in shame and sorrow. She convinced Aria to go with her back to Dr. Sullivan's office downtown; but none of them were Spencer, so they came back empty-handed, with nothing that they could subtly steal or take a look at. Both Spencer and Hanna knew she wasn't all right, but she kept saying she was really worried about A and about the hearing, which was, actually, the truth; she just kept quiet about the rest. They were all used to saying half the truth. It was always easier than trying to make up for a whole new lie. You could actually believe yourself when you just said half of what was going on inside you. Spencer did try to question her a couple of times, almost as if she suspected she was up to something she hadn't said, but at the same time she was too worried about her own obsessive theories about Jason and the lost cookie and she seemed to trust Emily's word, which made everything even worse, in a way, because she did trust her. She did trust her word.

And that only made Emily's love for her grow deeper and higher.

And love only caused her to feel more anguish and pain, because she  _knew_  she couldn't risk it. She couldn't let Spencer go to jail. But she couldn't break her heart either. Hanna was more aggressive, for once, than Spencer. But still Emily didn't crack. A was right about her: she did know how to keep a secret when she knew it was important. If she cracked, the hockey stick would be released; maybe Dr. Sullivan's lifeless body would be released too, if she was actually dead.

A sent another text after they had dinner on Thursday night. Hanna was keeping a close eye on her. It was probably Spencer who'd asked her to do it; or both of them had decided it in view of her recent anxious behavior. But she got the text when she was preparing to hop into bed for another sleepless night. She still had two days, but A was getting impatient. Almost as if he/she/it knew she needed to be pushed further to jump into the empty pool. When she was little, her dad had taught her to swim. It didn't come naturally to her, although now she felt as if she'd been born knowing how to do it. Her father had been patient and nice with her as he always was, but when the moment came to jump from a diving board which seemed to be really high, she chickened out. He had pushed her on the back and, although he'd been gentle and she'd known what to do when her body splashed the water and went down before resurfacing again, she'd been mad at him because his shove had taken her by surprise. A wasn't gentle and nice like her father. A was a disgusting piece of shit and, if she could, she swore she'd be the first one to send him/her/it to jail or to the grave the second she finally managed to reach a conclusion about who this monster was, even if he/she/it had his/her/its motives to hate them all. But apparently A knew she needed to be pushed further when she was chickening out and paralyzed by doubt. Yeah, of course A knew that. She was the weakest link precisely because of that, right?

So A told her time was running out and instructed her to kiss someone else. It was one of A's jokes to stress the fact that it shouldn't be difficult for her, since she was well known for being a really great kisser.

Even if she did something like that, would Spencer really buy it? She'd be mad anyway. She wasn't sure if she'd be as mad as to be heartbroken, though, or if she'd just unleash the forces of nature against her for doing such a thing. Unless she kissed someone meaningful in her life, someone Spencer already took as a rival. Maya. Or Paige. But, even if she did that, she wasn't sure Spencer would buy it. Spencer  _knew_ Emily was in love with her. It wasn't a secret. The only person Spencer would ever truly fear was Alison, and she couldn't kiss Alison because Alison was dead. There were two things she could do: kiss someone, which would certainly inspire a heinous reaction from Spencer, or do something more subtle and awful that would show Emily's untouchable, unbreakable bond with Alison, the bond Emily herself knew didn't exist anymore, except as a pale shadow of what had been long ago; but that was the one Spencer would still fear or resent the most. A was not in favor of subtlety, though. A just told her to go kiss someone else.

What was she even thinking? How could she really, actually be considering the best way to break Spencer?

The mere realization that she'd been put on  _that_  spot sent her into shock again, more violently than ever. A wanted her to go there, to her darkest place. She knew Spencer better than anyone. And A wanted that knowledge to be the key to take Spencer down, but also to break  _her_. She was being used as a refined instrument for rupture. And somehow her brain was working in that direction while she tried to escape from it. She couldn't let her brain do that. She couldn't allow herself to think about that and to be instrumented for that kind of evil.

She had to shut herself down, and at the same time force herself to come to a decision that would keep Spencer out of jail.

Kiss someone.

It didn't actually need to be a relevant, meaningful someone.

It could be anyone.

It could be a boy, for all she knew. It could be as meaningless as that.

And it'd keep Spencer out of jail, even if she went furious.

Emily hopped out of bed again and decided to wash her face, trying to use the cold water to anesthetize her nerves. It didn't do much, the same way running hadn't done much. Hanna was still awake when she came out of the bathroom, pretending to be normal and merely asphyxiated by the heat waves of the summer when all that was asphyxiating her was the burden A had placed on her shoulders to push her against the ground and make her crawl, the burden of her own love and her responsibility and her priorities and her doubts.

She sensed Hanna's eyes on her the whole time.

And, when she opened the door to the bedroom, she heard Hanna's voice calling after her, the underlying edge of concern and warning in her voice.

"Where are you going?"

She turned and forced a smile.

"Running."

"Isn't it too late to run?"

"Yep." It was too late to run away, that was for sure. "It is. But I can't sleep and that'll help me do it."

"I can't sleep either", Hanna said. "Why don't you stay? We can listen to some music."

She had her earphones on, although Emily suspected she wasn't really listening to anything.

She pretended to hesitate for a brief moment. "I need the fresh air", she finally explained, using the heat wave as a excuse. "But I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

She closed the door and ran down the stairs, trying to put as much distance with Hanna or with any other caring human being as possible. She was reaching the front door when she had a sudden, strange moment of inner idiocy. The light didn't strike her; it was another thing. Maybe she had it because she was thinking about Hanna and Hanna was not dumb at all but had a tendency to use alcohol in certain conflictive situations. Somehow she decided to come in the living room and search for the cabinet where Ms. Marin kept her bottles of wine, from where Hanna had also taken the vodka and the tequila bottles for that little gathering at Spencer's house when she'd kiss her the first time.

She felt like she was going to throw up again at the abrupt, happy irruption of a good, nice memory.

Instead, she looked for a bottle of tequila and, since she couldn't find one, she grabbed one of rum and left the house.

She went running in her car. Hanna wouldn't buy that in a million years, but she couldn't just run around town with a bottle of alcohol in her hands. She was the dumbest friend. Not Hanna. She was the weakest link.

But she had to kiss a person tonight, she had to buy time for Spencer.


	9. Beware The Ides of March

She saw her in between the shadows, leaning against a wall still in her shorts and her summer T-shirt, obscured and hidden by cars that were lined up in the parking lot next to the bar. She'd almost given up on finding her there and was on the verge of calling Caleb to tell him he was wrong when she saw her. She would have missed her if it wouldn't have been because of her light green T, which had a big pink Labrador puppy drawn on it. It was the kind of pink thing you didn't miss even at night, a big, cute call for attention. Labradors were not pink, they were kind of light cinnamon, yellow-like dogs; but this Labrador puppy had been designed to be pink, and, god, she was thankful she recognized it in the dark amidst the cars and the walls and the scarce light of the moon, because she had certainly chosen the best place to hide of all.

She was alone.

Spencer walked in that direction, passing by the parked cars, her heart beating too fast against her chest. Hanna had tried to shoot a Valium down her throat, but luckily she'd refused to do it and now her senses were alert and ready. Maybe they were too alert and ready. It was the kind of alertness that you felt when you fell into a whole barrel of pure caffeine, she guessed, even though she hadn't really  _had_  anything either to eat or to drink or to make her numb or awaken; nothing at all, except the self-produced adrenaline pumping throughout her veins and blowing her muscles like wings, making her walk both quickly and clumsily because she wanted to get there faster than her body could actually do it. She felt like a wild black foal running the prairie, like a boat sailing and crossing the waves that were cars and hot summer breezes and gravel under her shoes. She felt she could fly if she tried a little harder. But she couldn't. She was just a girl walking steadily towards another girl in the black distance of an ordinary parking lot next to an even more ordinary bar called Marianne's. How did she even end up here?

Her figure appeared more defined against the wooden-like wall as she approached her. She didn't notice her walking towards her. She seemed lost in thought, and for the first time since they'd received Caleb's call she wondered what she was going to say to her. A whole yelling, babbling set of incoherent sounds, most probably, given the pressure she was feeling against her chest, that would surely keep her from giving a lengthy lecture on the dangers and the mindlessness of running away like this in the middle of the night. It was only when she was already really close to her that she realized she hadn't seen her yet because her eyes were closed. Her heart broke at the sight, and she slowed down her frantic walk so she wouldn't scare her. She looked beautiful even like this, in her sporty pyjamas that were meant to go "running". She looked beautiful like this because she was almost as dark as the night that was giving her shelter and still she managed to expel a special glow, an aura of warmth and mystery and innocence that no one would ever possess in such a way, not while she unknowingly, protectively hid it from others. But there were no others around her right now. She was alone, and Spencer was again thankful for that. She didn't want to start this situation by kicking people out off her to take her back to the car.

There was a bottle on the ground, at her feet. She had been drinking. Maybe not too much, Spencer hoped, but she didn't really stop to check how much had already been consumed. She was, as well, holding her phone on her right hand. Well, Spencer knew this meant she hadn't really been missing  _their_  one million calls. She just didn't feel like answering them. A flash of anger bit her at the sight, but still she was careful when she slightly touched her left hand with her fingers to let her know she was there by her side.

Emily's whole body flinched in surprise at the careful touch. She opened her eyes a little and tried to focus her gaze on Spencer. Judging by the foggy, blurry, crystallized look she was giving her now, Spencer decided Emily was actually quite if not completely wasted. She didn't really need to take a look at the bottle to know.

She took her hand in hers but no words came to her throat.

"Spencer."

Amazingly, it was Emily who spoke first. Her voice sounded weak and startled.

"Hey." She thought she was going to yell but, instead, her voice sounded as weak as Emily's, only less hoarse. She couldn't yell at her now. She looked so surprised and drunk and troubled.

Emily turned her head a little and focused her gaze again. "What are you doing here? You need to go."

"No,  _we_  need to go", Spencer answered, finally finding her normal voice inside. "Come."

She grabbed her hand with more force now, but still didn't try to drag her away.

"Spencer", she repeated, slurring the name and making it sound mush, almost sultry if it weren't because of her drunkenness. "Beware the ides of March, Spencer, they're not yet gone. I'm gonna betray you."

She must have been thinking a lot about Texas too if she was capable of quoting Shakespeare in a situation like this.

The thought made Spencer smile inside. As worried and frantic as she was, the smile turned up on her face too. There was something immensely sweet about Emily even when she was drunk and troubled like this, and apparently it was too big and beautiful to be contained even in times of misery.

At the same time, she felt intrigued at the words. She was here to betray her. Outside of a bar called Marianne's, of which she'd never ever heard of. Emily didn't strike her like the kind of person who'd know about such a place, either.

"You can betray me in the car", Spencer assured. It was easier to convince a drunken person to do something when you played along their obsessive themes than when you tried to force them to behave sensibly. Especially if the drunken person in question had a stubborn temper. "Let's go. And since it's July already, I think we still have time until March."

Emily sent her an annoyed look. It wasn't going to be so easy. "It's the same", she answered, looking away again. "You don't get it."

Spencer let her side lean against the wall too, not letting go of Emily's hand. "What should I get? That you're quoting Shakespeare because you're drunk?"

That she was drunk because of A. Because A wanted her to do something. She knew that much, but not enough, and she wasn't hoping to clarify it while she was still  _this_  drunk.

"No", she answered, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears. "I… You can't be here."

"Okay", Spencer agreed, realizing the tears in her eyes, but she didn't move. She squeezed her hand in hers. "Explain it to me."

"I can't explain. It doesn't work like that."

"Who says that?"

"A."

Oh, they'd touched bone.

"Don't explain it then", Spencer tried again. "Let's just leave."

"No, you leave." She sounded a little angry now. "You don't understand. I have to kill you to save your ass. I have to do it. I have no choice."

Spencer decided to follow the Shakespearian cue again. "So am I Caesar or Rome?"

Emily seemed totally confused by her question, and turned to look at her again. "What?"

"Yeah, am I Caesar or Rome?", she repeated. "You say you have to kill me, so I'm Caesar. But if you have to save me, then I'm not Caesar and I'm Rome. Right?"

"I… I'm not sure." She considered the question now. "I think you're Rome."

She still didn't look completely convinced of it, and Spencer couldn't do anything but smile at her pained, yet cute state of thoughtful drunkenness.

"That's better then", Spencer agreed. "I prefer to be Rome."

"Yeah, you're definitely Rome."

"And you're Brutus."

"I'm the weakest link."

Her eyes filled with tears again at her own words, and again Spencer felt her heart stir and break at the realization of whatever A had said to her to drive her to this point. She'd thought the weakest-link bullshit had been already overcome and suppressed, but A had somehow managed to hit and create damage there again.

She approached her some more and got a hold of her arm. It was warm, hot even, due to the warm night and probably to the feverish effect of alcohol running through her.

"Come with me to the car", she, once again, tried. "You can save Rome tomorrow."

"No, no", she denied with her head, but actually moved in her direction, leaning a little on her body. Spencer smelled the sweetened taste of alcohol in her breath when she spoke again. "Spencer, please leave. I have to kiss someone now and you have to let me do it."

"You have to kiss someone?" She was starting to put piece by piece together, but was still totally confused as to the meaning of it all. "How come? Is that why you're betraying me?"

A nod followed. She was getting it right.

"Just let me do it", Emily begged. "So you don't go to jail."

Spencer knew that threat was behind all. Hanna and she had looked through Emily's laptop after her escape and they'd seen Dr. Sullivan's photo.

"I'm not letting you kiss anyone but me", she warned gently. "You don't have permission."

She shot her a horrified, guilty look. "I know I don't. But I  _have_  to do it, Spencer. You don't  _understand_."

"I do, I do understand." Spencer tried to make sense of all the things she'd collected along the conversation. "A told you to come here to cheat on me so I don't go to jail. Is that it?"

She looked at her in slow-motioned surprise. "Yeah, kind of", she consented. "But worse."

Worse? How much worse?

"Is there something else?", she asked.

Emily put again some distance with her, as if trying to gain control of the situation. "Dr. Sullivan's dead." Her eyes shone, saddened, and she choked back new tears. "I have to… I have to break your heart and I don't know how to do it."

Finally, a couple of tears escaped her eyes, but she managed to control the rest.

"Is that all?", Spencer asked, preparing to drag her away back to the car now. She squeezed her hand again.

"I have to break your heart", she repeated, looking into the distance of the parking lot.

"We're not ready for that yet", Spencer softly joked, trying to make it sound less dramatic. "We have to follow the natural course of heartbreak. I'll let you know when I'm ready."

Emily seemed to take her words seriously and spoke with a startled, annoyed tone. "No, you can't plan something like that. You can't put a date in the calendar, Spencer."

"Fine. Then why are we here?"

Emily suddenly realized. "A. A can plan it."

"A can go to hell for all I care", Spencer said. "And  _will_  go to hell. Now come to the car and we'll discuss the picture there."

Again she shot her a surprised glance. "You've seen the picture? A sent it to you too?"

"No. I've seen it in your laptop."

"Oh." She seemed somehow disappointed. "I can't go now. You go."

Jesus, she  _was_  stubborn.

"You're coming with me now, Emily". Spencer finally started to lose her patience. "It's dangerous enough that you're here in the middle of the night and that you're completely wasted  _and_  waiting for some person to actually hurt you or do something to you."

She turned to look at her with alcohol-induced cutting eyes. "No, you don't get it.  _I'm_  the one who's gonna hurt you. That's how it is. Please."

Spencer let out a frustrated grunt. "I'm not moving. I'll stay here with you  _all night_  if necessary, so if you wanna kiss someone you'd better do it in front of me." She looked around as to give her a sign of the uselessness of such a proposition. "I don't see a lot of people waiting to be kissed."

Emily seemed both offended and saddened at her words. "Yeah, I know", she slowly acknowledged. "I'm not dressed to kill. But I got my chances."

Spencer was certain of that. She did look cute as hell in her sporty summer clothes and in her cloudy, innocent alcoholic haze. But that made the situation even more dangerous for her.

"Who're you gonna kiss?"

Another offended, yet guilty look followed. "I don't think I should tell you that."

"I'm not letting you do it, so you can tell me everything about it."

All she got as an answer was a deep, nervous sigh.

"Are you calling someone?" Spencer took the phone from her left hand and checked the one hundred missed calls from Hanna, Aria and herself. She hadn't tried to call anyone. But there was a text sent to Samara half an hour ago. She was surprised. "You still got Samara's number?"

Guilt crossed Emily's features. "Yeah."

"Why?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I always forget to erase it."

"And that's why you're texting her? She's the chosen one?"

Spencer couldn't avoid the pang of anger in her tone, but she knew she should control it.

"I was trying a boy, okay?", Emily tried to explain. "But there's no one cute enough. And Samara was my next try."

"Can you explain it to me in the car?", Spencer asked again. She actually didn't care if it was Samara or a boy or a camel. She just wanted to get her back to the car. "You're not gonna do it tonight. Samara's not coming and the cute boy's not coming. And I'm getting you home."

"I'm running out of time", Emily answered, and her voice trembled and weakened as she spoke the words. "We don't have time."

There was a moment of silence when Spencer could see the process of Emily's defeat. For a second she wished she'd continued talking about  _Julius Caesar_  until she'd managed to convince her to go, because Emily bent down and sat on the ground, curling herself into a ball. She started to quietly cry.

Spencer felt her heart stop. Whenever people cried in front of her, she always felt uncomfortable. She tried to comfort them with a warm, human touch and rational, expansive explanations on the reasons why things would get better or why they weren't so bad as to cry about them. She was, herself, a person with a tendency to cry too much when she felt frustrated or sad. In such situations, it was always easier to be alone or to have Aria, because Aria was a naturally warm, comforting person, or Emily close. Emily was quiet and understanding and she covered you like a blanket, like the sea and the sky and the air, with such a natural tenderness that she didn't even need to speak most of the times.

But what did you do when Emily cried? What did you do? She had never seen her cry like this, not even when Alison died.

What did you do when she cried like this and it was because of you and because of things related to you?

She bent down next to her.

"Em, please, Em", she said, as softly as she could, and her own voice broke and cracked. "Whatever A says, it's the opposite of a win-win situation. We all lose like this. I don't care what A says. I don't care if I go to jail. I don't care about anything. Just come with me to the car and we'll be fine."

She hadn't even had time to think about Dr. Sullivan when she'd seen the picture. She'd just registered it as a proof of A's contact with Emily  _two days ago_  and that had been enough to make Hanna call Caleb and Lucas so they would all search the town for her. She'd even called Toby and had endured probably the most awkward moment of her entire life when she had asked him to call her immediately if he heard news from Emily. He'd understood the urgency of the situation because somehow he had promised he'd look for her too.

Caleb had miraculously found her. It'd been, indeed, a miracle. She'd never have thought of checking the most ordinary bars in town.

The only thing she wanted was to bring her back safe. She didn't care about anything else right now.

"Please", she begged again, brushing her hair aside to look at her face.

She could see the effort she made to stop crying. She wiped her tears away with her palms, and Spencer searched her purse for tissue. Once she blew her nose and dried her tears, she tried to catch her breath.

"I can't let you go to jail, Spencer."

"It's not on you, Em. It's not your responsibility. Whatever A said…"

"No, you don't understand. I  _can't_  let you. I  _can't_."

They looked into each other's eyes. "And do you think following A's orders and kissing someone is really going to stop it? Do you think A will actually stop it like that?"

She looked offended again. "No, I know it won't. But it can buy you some time…"

"I don't want time", Spencer cut her off. "Just please come with me, come back with me now. That's the only thing I want."

She did sound desperate and, since that was how she was actually feeling, it had an immediate effect on Emily. She leaned on her and Spencer helped her stand up, and then grabbed her by the waist. They staggered together around and through the parking lot. Caleb was waiting by her car, his expression of worry because Spencer had taken such a long time to bring Emily back.

"Is she all right?", Caleb asked, taking a look at Emily's messy, drunken appearance.

"No", Spencer stated the obvious.

Emily looked sheepishly at Caleb. She was wondering if he had any idea as to why she was like that, and she hoped that no, he didn't, even if that meant that she looked as the most stupid, disgusting person in the world.

Spencer opened the passenger's door and helped her sit there. Then she thanked Caleb with the whole of her heart, asked him to call Lucas, called Aria and Hanna to tell them they'd found her, sent a text to Toby saying the same, and said goodbye to Caleb.

"Does he know?", Emily asked while Spencer was making herself comfortable on her seat and fastening her belt.

"No, he just thinks we had a fight. We're a very passionate couple."

"Yeah, and I'm dumb and an alcoholic."

Spencer actually smiled at Emily's sarcastic comment, but when she looked at her in her seat she saw she was not really joking or trying to be funny. Emily slouched down in her seat and looked away out of her window, into the moonless night.

She drove the car slowly and in silence. It was going to be difficult to get through the night.

"I can't go home like this", Emily suddenly announced, self-consciousness and embarrassment taking over the alcohol-induced cloud. "Where are you taking me?"

"To my house."

"No, that's worse", she exclaimed, horrified. "Please don't."

"Yes." Her tone left no alternatives. She'd already made the decision. "You're staying with me tonight. I'm not leaving you alone."

"No. Your mom…"

"My mom's sleeping, like everybody else", she assured. "It's gonna be okay."

She heard her sigh deeply while she moved uncomfortably in her seat and silence took over of the car again. Of course she wouldn't go to the Hastings' if she knew her mother was there. But she'd already made enough crazy, mindless decisions for the night. It was Spencer's moment to decide and there was no way she was going to leave her alone tonight, and probably tomorrow, and the night after that. Not while A posed a threat like this. She was dying to read the texts Emily had been receiving. She bet they had been awful and cruel to make her fall to this. She should've started questioning her when both Hanna and she realized Emily was acting silent and strange. It was her fault. Emily had been right; she was A's main target at this point, and she had failed to see it because she was thinking about the hockey stick and the fucking cookie and where Jason was, and when Hanna had called to tell her Emily had taken the car to "run" she'd just entered a paralyzing, and still frantic mode of despair, because obviously, obviously A had gone after Emily. Who else was A going to attack? Who had been receiving every text during the last months? And even though she'd been scared when she'd checked Dr. Sullivan's photo, she'd immediately thought of what that  _had_  to mean for Emily.

They were both strong, but they were now also each other's weakness.

She looked at Emily while she drove. She was still looking out the window, defeated and grave. She'd have to talk to her when she sobered up, but not about kissing someone, even if it was Samara (and she  _wanted_  to know why she'd chosen Samara out of every female possibility); just about why and how they couldn't afford to let A get so close to them.

The silence in the car was broken by Emily's cracked, hoarse voice again. "Can you pull over a moment?"

Spencer turned to get a better sight of Emily's face, which had become paler. She had her arms crossed against her stomach. She was probably feeling sick, so Spencer did pull over on the side of the road, and Emily immediately opened the door, stepped out and threw up under an oak tree.

Spencer got another tissue from her purse and walked next to her, but instead of handing it to her she softly ran the tissue around her face and around the corners of her mouth, cleaning her up. There was no anger or despair or even sadness in her heart right now. She was just… overcome by an overwhelming desire to drive the car out of Rosewood and leave forever with her. So they wouldn't have to take this kind of crap again.

So Emily could be brave and cute and beautiful and, basically, her normal self.

"I'm sorry", Emily said, looking down in shame.

"It's better if you throw up", Spencer explained, still cleaning her face. "At least that won't go through your blood now."

Emily nodded in agreement, but spoke again. "Not for that. I'm sorry for everything else."

Spencer felt tears coming to her own throat. "You don't need to be. You didn't break my heart." She tried to offer a smile, because no, she wasn't heartbroken, she had just been scared to death and was now relieved to have her there, even if she was in such a state.

Emily blinked. "I was gonna do it."

Spencer understood she meant the kiss of death. "I know."

Emily grabbed her arm, as if to call her attention, although she already had it. "You were gonna be mad."

"That was the point, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'd probably forgive you in ten seconds." She tried to joke again, although a part of her was convinced she _would_  forgive her in ten seconds if the kiss of death ever happened.

"No, you wouldn't", Emily answered looking down again. That cryptic, codified kind of communication always made Spencer nervous. Emily looked into her eyes again. "Not if I did it right, but I failed."

"I'm glad you don't really know how to create chaos and evil around you", Spencer joked again, but she was glad. She was glad. Because, if she did it right, yes, she'd be mad. And there was no way in the world she was going to allow A to do that to them.

But, if not for Caleb, it could've happened.

Emily gave her a tiny smile, the first one of the night, but her eyes still shone with tears after the effort of throwing up had taken place. "And now what?"

"Now you sober up and then we talk about this."

"And then you go to jail? Is that it?"

"Let's talk it over later, okay?"

She dragged her back to the car again and they drove away in the middle of the night, the warm summer breeze caressing Emily's face through the open window.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brutus says, as a excuse for his act of treason, "Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved / Rome more."


	10. In The Night We Trust

The universe has its own plans designed for the people who live in it. Sometimes, the most logical plans, or at least the ones that are based on experience and recent history, fail because they are ultimately absurd, because they are not meant to happen, or because parents realize that, on a particular night, they need to pay attention to their child. Tonight, Spencer was expecting to surreptitiously sneak Emily inside her house. She hadn't really  _thought of_  a plan. She was just expecting to do what she'd done in many occasions: lead the way and do whatever she had in mind regardless of everything else, especially of the presence of parents. No matter how or why, she'd been sneaking in and out of her house hundreds of times during the last year without her parents knowing or even caring about it. But, tonight, her mother had to wake up due to insomnia and realize Spencer wasn't there. It was a surprise that her mother actually cared about it enough to wait for her in the living room, thus making Spencer's plan impossible; making, at least, the surreptitiousness of it an unattainable, unsuccessful possibility. The moment Spencer realized this, when she parked the car in front of her house and saw the lights inside the living room, she did start thinking of a plan; she wasn't one to shrink in the face of parental trouble, especially  _not_  on a night like this. However, the moment Emily realized it, only a couple of seconds after Spencer did, when she was still in a state of drunken stupor that was progressively sinking her down into the kind of depression that alcohol creates when you've used it to escape reality, her face fell to the floor, the skin under her eyes darkened even more, and she grew sort of shadowy around the edges, a clear sign of shame and inescapable terror. However, she didn't say anything. She seemed resigned to bend to Spencer's will tonight, even if that meant her downfall would become worse and harder to fight back in the morning.

Veronica Hastings was surprised to see Emily in such a state. Emily was, after all, a healthy, sunny kid; had always been a healthy, sunny kid ever since she was introduced to the Hastings long before they even learned she was gay or that  _their_  daughter had decided she was in love with her and was, as a consequence, also gay. Emily was probably the person you'd least expect to find wasted and messed up like this, so it was natural that Ms. Hastings was stunned to see the effects a bad use of alcohol had on the Fields' healthy child. But Spencer had very quickly prepared for this outcome. She was already thinking about it while she helped Emily walk towards her house. When she opened the door to the hall and confronted her mother, she silently drove Emily to the living room, left her there with a bottle of water and a silent order to stay quiet, and took her mom to the kitchen to have the due conversation. There, in the middle of the kitchen, she explained a convoluted story about why Emily had gotten drunk. Without telling the actual truth, Spencer figured it was important to  _underline_  the fact that Emily was trying to help her. Her mother wasn't, obviously, easily fooled; she inquired about what Emily was trying to do to help Spencer and why Spencer would need that kind of shady, clearly immature help. Spencer tried harder to complicate the story while at the same time aiming directly at her mother's possible feeling of guilt: a weird excuse about how she'd once innocently stolen an autopsy report back when she was trying to prove Ian had killed Alison sufficed; she'd asked Emily to return it without arousing suspicions, and so on and so on. The mention of Ian's name hit the mark; besides, the story was convoluted enough to make her mother actually believe her. For once, it didn't look like she was trying to compete with Melissa; and Emily did look as innocent as a young, long lost fawn who'd been deceived into a drinking game by an undetermined male person who'd promised to help. So her mother believed her and actually agreed to silence the incident to both Ms. Fields and Ms. Marin, but insisted Emily sleep in the guest room again. Spencer said no, there was no way Emily would sleep alone tonight and it would happen over her dead body. She was feeling sick and she needed help. Her mother said no, there was no way they were sleeping in the same room because she might understand Emily's difficult position but she was still a mother and Spencer had to comply to the rules that had been laid down when they'd started dating. Spencer doubled down the bet and said no, there was no way Emily was  _not_  sleeping in the room with her, and she was deadly serious about it and didn't care about any rules; her mother called her out on her inappropriate behavior and threatened to sleep in the same room with them, which made Spencer fear for a second, but she didn't show it; she said fine, but attacked her mother's ability to take care of sick people and reminded her she had to go to work the next morning. They crashed their Hastings antlers, and this time Spencer won. Sometimes Spencer managed to win also at home. And, when it came to Emily, she would always be a winner, no matter what, when, how or even who tried to oppose it.

The power of determination was amazing. She was learning to be a Hastings even among the Hastings, which was where she probably needed it the most.

Besides, Emily looked harmless: ashamed and sick enough to not be able to do much but sleep it off.

It was a special circumstance in a special world where parents had nothing to say.

When the crash was done and finished, and her mother was convinced, Spencer came back to the living room to pick Emily up. She was pretending to watch TV, sank down on the couch where she'd spent so many hours of her life. Spencer was hoping she'd be deeply asleep by then. That would mean she wouldn't have caught any part of the conversation with her mom, since there had been a couple of heated moments which could've been heard. But she was awake. And the look she sent her meant she had, indeed, heard some parts of the conversation, because it was a look full of embarrassment and sorrow and even anger. However, she didn't say anything. She just looked up at her and proceeded to follow up the stairs. They were already distant from Veronica Hastings, who had stayed in the kitchen, when Emily finally opened her mouth and decided to speak in a whisper.

"I should sleep in the guest room, Spence", she said, and Spencer could hear the fine dripping of resentment. "Let me sleep there."

Spencer turned around. She was exhausted and unwilling to convince anyone else tonight. "No." That was all she was planning to answer, but decided to extend it some more. "You're feeling sick and I'm gonna take care of you."

"I'm feeling better now", Emily answered. "Why are you doing this? You should've taken me home. Hanna could take care of me."

Spencer sent her classical cut-through powerful glance, but didn't answer right away. She grabbed Emily's hand and drove her to her bedroom, closed the door and finally spoke in a tone that left no place for an argument.

"Yes, I know Hanna could take care of you", she said, looking at Emily in the eye. "And also Aria could take care of you. A lot of people could take care of you, I'm sure, but it's gonna be me because I wanna do it. I'm your girlfriend and I have the right to do it. It  _is_  my prerogative after you got drunk wanting to help me."

She understood Emily's embarrassment over this, and especially over the encounter with her mother, but she'd already dealt with it appropriately (well, maybe not in a conventional manner, but in an  _effective_  one, which was what mattered tonight) and she wouldn't let Emily have a say over this now. She  _needed_  to be with her tonight. Emily was in this state because of her, or because of A, or because of whatever bad things were happening to them, she didn't care; she just knew they weren't going to sleep in separate rooms tonight. And then there was the other thing – she might go to jail next week. They needed to be together on a night like this, and there was nothing else to add.

Emily seemed more embarrassed after listening to her, and took a step back. She was probably still too drunk to fight and too emotional to say anything sensible, because once again Spencer saw her eyes shine with tears.

But she just looked down and sat on the spare bed.

Spencer looked for a towel and a spare toothbrush and came back to Emily's place on the bed. She sat next to her and Emily turned, indecisive and frail. "Is that for me?"

Spencer smiled, trying to come across less edgy than she'd been before. "Yeah. You'll feel better after you take a shower."

Emily nodded in agreement and took both the towel and the toothbrush in her hands, but still didn't move.

"I totally screwed up with your mom."

Spencer knew this was the real source of preoccupation right now. "She totally bought my story", she explained, trying to ease that worry away. "It's fine."

"I shouldn't be here", Emily insisted. "I worked so hard to have her on my side and now…" She trailed off, chocking back more tears that threatened to well up and overflow her eyes.

"She's still on your side", Spencer argued, sounding more convinced than she actually was. She actually didn't care that much. She knew her mother liked Emily and would still like her because there was no human way to  _not_  like Emily. "And, more importantly,  _I am_  still on your side and will always remain there, whether you like it or not."

She tried to sound cute, but she'd been enduring too much tension during the night and somehow her words seemed more menacing than playful.

Emily seemed to get it right, though, because she gave her another of those tiny smiles that were so hard to obtain from her tonight. "I know you are", she managed to say. "But it should be me on your side, not the other way around."

She was still feeling guilty over what she saw as her failure to save her, even though Spencer was actually grateful she'd failed. That was another reason they needed to be together tonight – to talk about this. Spencer was preparing to say something when Emily stood up in a resolved, yet wavering movement, and wandered off to the bathroom.

Spencer waited, and while she waited she got changed into her summer pyjama-T-shirt and chose another one for Emily. It wasn't a good idea to sleep in the same clothes she'd used to go get lost and drunk while preparing to cheat on her, so she got her a fairly big T-shirt and a pair of shorts. They weren't exactly the same size, but she hoped they'd fit her, and then she took them to the bathroom. Emily had already showered, was covered by the towel and had even washed her hair. She gave her a shy glance and received the clean clothes with a thank you, in polite-and-sweet Emily fashion. She was suddenly as far away from the obstinate, desperate drunkard she'd been a while ago as she was from the sexy, confident, happy person she'd been during the last months. And, still, it was Emily. It was that same person who could sometimes shy away and become isolated in her sweetness, in her distant nicety and beauty that acted as a safe place for her whenever she needed it as a cover. It was her cover. And Spencer knew it was her cover. She could see through it now. And, moreover, she knew she was taking refuge in it because of everything that had happened and could still happen, that she was scared of and that she regretted. But Spencer had to break through it tonight, because they needed to talk, and because, hell, because she had to do it, because they had to do it. Because, if not to each other, who would they turn to?

She sat on the bed, reclining against the pillows and cushions, and waited until Emily reappeared.

When Emily came back, she closed the door and awkwardly stood in the middle of the room. She didn't know where to go. She didn't know where to put herself to sleep. And Spencer's heart broke once again at the realization, because this was such a clear sign of everything that had changed between them in the last months, that she wouldn't know where to sleep tonight when she'd been sharing her bed with her or the spare bed with someone else for years now. It was the clearest sign of their change of status and of the difficulties that they sometimes faced because of it.

"Come here", Spencer called, hoping to help her make the decision.

Emily gave her a hesitant look, but approached the bed and sat on its edge.

"Why did you wash your hair?", Spencer asked, taking advantage of the question to sit closer and touch her wet hair with her fingers. She had the most beautiful hair she'd ever seen. It smelled so good and was always so dark and luminous.

"It seemed like the proper thing to do", she explained with her little voice. "I feel like rum's still pouring out of every part of me."

At least now, after the shower, her speech was more elaborate. She wasn't so drunk anymore.

"Oh, so it was rum." Spencer had been trying to smell what kind of alcohol it was, but hadn't been able to guess, and the fact that they hadn't even kissed had not helped. "What made you choose rum?"

Emily looked away. "Just that it was there", she said. "But I swear I'm never trying that shit again."

"Yeah, I heard that's what everybody says when they get drunk."

She looked at her again, with a very serious expression on her face. "No, but I mean it."

Spencer felt like kissing her, but she held herself back. She did take Emily's hand and intertwined her fingers with Emily's. "Come here", she repeated, meaning the bed, but maybe meaning more than that.

"Shouldn't I take the spare bed?", Emily asked, giving another clear sign of uncertainty and shyness.

Spencer decided not to answer and just offered her one of those typical glances that said it all, which was, once again, effective, because Emily immediately complied. She did move to lie down on the bed next to Spencer, but didn't go under the covers. It was a warm night. They lied down next to each other until Spencer reached for the lamp and turned the light off. They were suddenly embraced by almost complete darkness and by the sound of both of their regular respirations. Emily moved a little and placed some of the cushions at their feet, in order to get into a more comfortable position.

"When are we gonna talk?", Emily asked after a while. "About what's gonna happen."

"Are you feeling better now?" Spencer felt for Emily's hand again. "Do you wanna talk?"

"Yeah."

Spencer turned her whole body to face Emily. She took some seconds to consider what she wanted to say.

"We can't let A get so close to us."

Emily turned her head in her direction and Spencer could smell again her rum-and-toothpaste breath. "And how do we do that?"

"I know it's not easy, but we have to tell each other everything", she started to explain. "Every text, every little piece of information that we get from A, we need to tell each other or we're screwed, Em. We'll be screwed if we don't do it."

Emily took a while to consider Spencer's words too. "Aren't we screwed already?", she finally asked. "If you're going to jail…"

"No", Spencer interrupted her. "We don't know that yet."

"Dr. Sullivan…"

"Yeah, Dr. Sullivan might be dead", Spencer interrupted again. "But we don't know for sure. And anyway, Emily, that's my mother's job. It's not your job to get me out of jail. And, even if I go to jail, I know I'll eventually get out, because I didn't do anything."

Yes, she was scared of going to jail. She was truly, deeply scared of it. It was one of the very few things that truly, deeply scared her. She knew her powerful mastery of vocabulary wouldn't be of use there. She knew her death stares and her grave, low cryptic threats wouldn't help her there, if she was suddenly thrown in the middle of an unexpected situation, with people who wouldn't be either friends or enemies, or rivals or players or bystanders; without Emily, and Hanna and Aria; without her parents and Melissa to piss her off or give her protection. With people who wouldn't give a shit, or who'd be real criminals, or who'd have real bad intentions. But, still, she hadn't murdered Dr. Sullivan. She would eventually get out. A would eventually be discovered, and his/her/its ass would be kicked to where it belonged, to jail, which was exactly the place where Spencer didn't belong at all. She might belong to a lot of places, places she still didn't know or which she hadn't heard of yet, although she did know one of them, the most meaningful one for her at this moment of her life, which was here, right here and right now, next to Emily. The way they were now,  _this_  very same way: this was her place, her home. She didn't want to be anywhere else. It had probably been her most natural place, her natural home for a long time, and she wasn't letting it go now. But that was why they couldn't allow A to dominate the game. Not when it came to them.

Emily sighed deeply, next to her in bed, and again Spencer smelled her breath. "I was just trying to get you time", Emily repeated her explanation. "I was trying to play the game without really playing it."

"Is that why you were going to kiss a boy?"

"Yeah", she admitted. "It was the least meaningful thing of all."

"And Samara?" Spencer actually thought it was more important to keep talking about A, but she couldn't really stop herself when it came to questioning this part of Emily's plan.

She felt Emily move a little closer. "I didn't want to hit on a straight girl. And since you don't hate Samara so much, I thought maybe it would be less offensive somehow." She sounded a little uncertain, her voice wavering as an indication of her own doubts.

"Well, at least you wouldn't enjoy a boy."

"I wouldn't enjoy Samara either, Spencer", Emily assured apologetically. "Or anyone for that matter."

"So you were trying to soften the blow?", Spencer half teased.

"Yeah."

Spencer gave it some thought. "Well, trust me, if you kissed her I'd very much hate her anyway."

Besides, she didn't actually  _hate_  anybody. Not for real. But, at the same time, she  _hated_  everyone who'd ever tasted Emily's mouth. Samara too. And she was very cute and very blonde, albeit kind of boring.

"Well, the plan was to get you mad", Emily continued. "I had that clear instruction. But I was hoping it wouldn't cause an irreparable damage."

Spencer approached her a little, until they were really, really close. "So you were hoping to get back together with me after that?"

She sensed Emily's inner trouble. "Maybe not right away, but…"

As much as she knew they had to speak seriously about this whole set of troubles, she chuckled at how meticulous Emily had been while trying to reach a decision.

"Emily, your kissing someone wouldn't cause an irreparable damage because you wouldn't mean it, not because of whom you chose to kiss. But still, it would be bad", she thought aloud. Maybe it would create a bigger damage if she actually kissed certain people, but she preferred not to think about that now. Fortunately, she hadn't actually kissed anyone. "And do you actually think Samara would kiss you months after she dumped you?"

Emily's voice sounded firm this time. "Why not? I wouldn't be asking for a serious date or anything. It was just a kiss. It's not that difficult to get."

Oh, so she was still confident in that department, no matter how shy and ashamed she felt. It made Spencer smile, in spite of everything.

"Huh, I sense some confidence coming back to you."

"It was just a kiss, Spencer", she insisted. "It's not that difficult. I wouldn't have texted her if I'd thought I couldn't get it."

Interesting: more self confidence. And, somehow, it was sort of hot to see how she kept that for herself even when she was feeling so miserable. It should be annoying, but it was actually hot.

"Well, I'm sorry for her, because now you'll just have to put her off again when she answers the text tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know." She sounded apologetic. She was probably feeling guilty about Samara too. That was Emily, after all.

"Just for the record, I hate Samara as much as anyone", Spencer decided to warn. "Just in case you ever need to wonder about this again."

Even though they were in complete darkness, she sensed Emily's eyes trying to catch a better vision of her face. But she didn't come up with an answer. Emily's reservations worked mainly for her and only for her, and Spencer couldn't always decipher the inner workings of her mind.

"Back to the original topic", Spencer decided to pick up on the more important topic, "which is A and what A's gonna try against us, and what we should do about it." She waited to see if Emily wanted to intervene, but she didn't. "You have to promise me you're not gonna do anything on your own. We have to stick together through this. We can't let A get in the middle or it will destroy us."

Emily moved away a little so she could face the ceiling again. This part of the conversation was upsetting and unpleasant for her.

Spencer decided to clarify her idea. "I'm talking about sharing every text we get whatever the threat involved." She'd already said it, but you could never underestimate the influence of repetition when it came to persuading others.

Emily repositioned the pillow under her head, trying to make time while she considered Spencer's words. "That's easier said than done", she finally answered.

She was going to call Spencer, the same way she'd called her and showed her every text. But then the picture came, along with the threat. If the picture was talked about, the hockey stick was out; maybe more. It'd been a hard decision, but she didn't believe it'd been a mistake.

"But it has to be done", Spencer stressed her point. "Isn't that what you always say? You don't try, you do?"

This time Emily moved a little more roughly on the bed, a sign of her becoming increasingly upset.

"You might be going to jail." That was what she could finally utter, her tone now sharper. "In some days. In some days or a week, Spencer. Do you think it's easy for me to sit and watch while it happens?" Her voice cracked a little when she pronounced these words.

Spencer took a deep breath. She knew it wasn't easy for her either. She knew Emily felt responsible and wanted to help. But this wasn't the way to do it.

"I know it's not easy for you, Em. But this is exactly what A wants. Just take a second to think about it." She let a couple of seconds pass as if Emily really needed the time. "Do you think it's gonna be better if we have a fight, if we break up, if we're miserable around each other? Because, let's be clear, that's exactly what A wants to do with us."

"I know that", Emily curtly answered.

Spencer decided to soften her aggressive style to reach the core of her argument. She'd been thinking a lot about this. She needed to be completely clear about what it meant for her and for Emily. Her words had to be precise, but also heartfelt.

"Emily, I don't wanna go to jail, that's for sure", she started, her voice low. "But I don't wanna be home without you either. It  _is_  important to me.  _This_  is important to me. I can't stand the idea that we might break up or fight because of that bastard-psycho-animal doing things to us. I can't."

Again she felt Emily's eyes intently on her face through the dark. This time it was Emily who felt for her hand on the bed. "That sounds kinda cheesy coming from you."

Even though she'd tried to quip it, Spencer could tell Emily was touched because her voice shook a little when she spoke.

"Cheesy or not, it's the truth."

"I can't stand that either", Emily turned again, her puffy, shadowy eyes shining in the dark. "But I think freedom might be a little bit more important than love right now, Spencer."

"I don't want  _that_  kind of freedom". Spencer became a little heated and her voice rose over their heads. "Freedom that was bought to a psychopath at the price of destroying my life is  _not_  freedom. I wanna be free  _with you_."

"If you're free, you'll be with me. We'd find a way to make up at some point."

There it was again: Emily's meticulous preparations to manage the best method to break her heart without leaving an irreparable damage, so they would pick their romance up later. When A was out of the picture? When they were already out of Rosewood? Or maybe earlier, earlier than that, when Spencer actually forgave her in the ten seconds it'd take her to understand there was no way for Emily to actually break a heart,  _her_  heart? Because it was Emily. Because Emily would always be Emily.

"I don't want A making that kind of decision for us and I don't wanna play A's game of destruction. Not when in comes to this. This is us, and we are sacred, private territory."

She decided to throw a ball at Emily to  _make_  her understand her point, even though she knew it was a risky ball because Emily was still feeling miserable and disoriented. But she had to do it.

"I'm glad you're so certain it wouldn't hurt us so bad, though."

Her tone was sarcastic enough to strike the ball with enough double meaning. Therefore, the ball hit its target and Emily approached her with a pained expression on her face.

"No, it's not that." She sighed, as if to explain herself better. "I just… I didn't want to hurt you, Spencer. I couldn't do it." Her voice broke a little, which made Spencer feel rather guilty at her previous move. "But I had to choose and I chose your freedom."

Spencer reached her hand to Emily's cheek now, fighting back the need to kiss her again.

"I need you to stick with me."

It was all Spencer said, and Emily understood the message. But she still resisted a little, trying to consider every possible consequence of Spencer's proposition.

"What if it's Hanna or Aria who'll be exposed? What if it's me?"

Turning the table, or rather the promise, on Spencer seemed fair enough if they had to actually arrive to a conclusion. Emily wasn't so sure Spencer would stick to her own plan if the situation was reversed. If Emily did stick with her and told her everything A said regardless of the consequences, would Spencer do the same if given an A-ultimatum? Would Spencer ignore a threat that meant something damaging for Emily or for another one of their friends?

"I know it won't be easy for me either." Spencer had already considered the reversed situation. "And if it's a life-or-death situation I understand we might have to act otherwise. But if it's not, we have to stick to each other like glue."

"Like glue", Emily repeated, finding the comment funny. "Okay. I guess I can try that. But I still have the right to make my own decision when I think the situation's bad enough."

"Is that the best you can offer me?"

"I'm offering what you offer yourself", Emily defended her position. "You get to make your own decisions and to follow your own ideas. But I  _will_  try my best."

Spencer let out a grunt of displeasure, indicating she didn't totally agree with that. "Fine, you get to make your own decisions too, as long as you don't get drunk, you don't put yourself in danger and you don't hurt me because A says you have to do it."

That was her final lay-out of conditions. It might sound raw or accusatory, so she added something else. "And it works for me too."

"I'm sorry I got drunk."

Damn, that had hit her pride. Spencer shouldn't have said it, but she realized too late.

"You can get drunk whenever you want to, just don't do it  _on your own_  and  _outside_ ", she tried to explain what she'd actually meant. "You're actually terribly cute when you're drunk. I can hardly resist that combination of funny and angry that your drunken self is."

She took advantage of the moment to lean across really close, but Emily's pride was hurt and there was no kiss, not even a slight brush of the lips.

"Trust me, I'm never gonna get drunk again to deal with this kind of shit." Emily sounded angry, probably at herself. "It's not only that I didn't save your ass, no, I just had to go and  _make_  an ass of myself in front of your mom, for which I'll have to apologize tomorrow."

"You don't need to apologize."

"Oh, yes, I do. And I will."

That was Emily too. She always tried to do the right thing. And, when she felt she'd failed, she tried to go back and mend it. So Spencer had better let her do as she pleased in the apology department. Besides, they both knew how pressured Emily felt when it came to the Hastings, so it was probably better if she tried to straighten the situation with her mom. An apology wouldn't hurt, as long as Emily stuck to Spencer's convoluted story.

A sort of relief invaded Spencer now. They had talked. There had been a compromise, maybe not the best she was hoping for in the actual circumstances, but Emily had agreed to tell her everything about A regardless of any terrible consequences that might happen to her. It wasn't a perfect plan, of course. It could fail: they could still decide on their own, personal terms (which was always dangerous, as it'd been tonight), and there were consequences that, perhaps, couldn't be avoided. Perhaps she'd be sent to jail. But, at least, they'd stick together. They'd be together. They wouldn't be broken, and A would be defeated in the end. She hoped she wouldn't have to wait for that while seeing the birds sing from a jailhouse window, though.

Emily seemed to be feeling better too; although she'd probably start to be hangover pretty soon. Spencer lifted her head to check she still had the bottle of water on the night stand.

"There's water over there, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Spencer repositioned her head on the pillow and thought about falling sleep while they were in silence. Emily had rolled over and was facing the ceiling again, close enough so their arms were touching, but distant at the same time. She inspected her. Spencer could swear her eyes were closed. Maybe she was a little dizzy or maybe her head ached from the ingestion of alcohol? That was probably going to happen – in a really bad way. She'd been really wasted and it wouldn't be easy to recover from that one. She had wanted to kiss her after saying that thing about her cute drunkenness, but there had been no chance, so now she searched for her hand again, and squeezed it. She couldn't really stop herself from it. She was filled with affection. She was filled with so many positive feelings even when she was mad at her. Which she really wasn't, after all. How could you get mad at Emily when all that Emily wanted was to save your ass from everything bad? And then she'd gotten herself in this really big mess, and now she was lying safely next to her. Next to her. On a bed. On  _her_  bed.

Spencer took another deep sigh. The elephant in the room was the bed in the room. Yes, they were on a bed. But it wasn't the moment to think about it. Thinking about it would actually make her a very bad, insensitive, corrupted kind of person. Or just a horny one with a really bad sense of opportunity.

They'd have to wait for another occasion. One when they wouldn't discuss being drunk and heartbroken and cheated on and in danger.

But still – they hadn't even kissed. They hadn't even sealed their agreement with a kiss. Perhaps it was also inappropriate to kiss after what had happened, although she didn't really see it that way. A kiss was sweet and a good, perfect way to seal any kind of thing, even if it was the victory of non-cheating.

"What?", Emily faced her again, opening her eyes. "Why are you staring?"

"I'm not staring, I'm only watching over you."

Emily smiled. "I don't need you to watch over me. You're making me nervous."

Did she mean the real meaning of  _nervous_  or the other, quasi-sexual one? The thought did create some nervousness in Spencer, so she moved a little and debated over asking or not asking for a make-up, goodnight kiss.

She felt Emily's hand reach up and slowly caress the space where her face and her hair crashed against the pillow.

"What are you thinking?"

Spencer moved closer again. "Nothing", she lied.

"You always have something on your mind, even when you're sleeping", Emily joked, while she tried to fixate her eyes on her. Spencer thought that was the moment when Emily was going to lean in and kiss her. But it didn't happen. She just kept looking at her, trying to grasp something in the dark. "Tell me."

"It's nothing", Spencer repeated, but then decided it was absurd to keep dancing around the same unspoken nothingness. "I was actually hoping to get a make-up kiss after all this drama."

"We haven't really fought, so I don't see how it could be a make-up kiss." Emily's voice had a playful, hopeful undertone.

"Are you gonna make me beg for it?", Spencer teased. "Because I think I have every right to ask after almost being cheated on. In fact, I shouldn't even be asking for one. It should come naturally."

Emily sighed at the mention of the cheating, but offered a weak smile. "I'm feeling like crap", she explained. "Can I make it up to you in the morning? I don't wanna kiss anyone when I'm feeling this bad."

Spencer felt a pang of pain in her heart. So that was the reason why she hadn't leaned in to kiss her.

"But I'm not anyone", she refuted. "I'm Spencer. I'm the girl in your dreams, I hope."

Emily offered a bigger smile now, and her fingers walked up Spencer's neck. "Yeah, you are." She seemed to take a moment to consider it, and then she slowly leaned in and gave her a very sweet kiss on the lips. "There you go."

"Is that it?" Spencer smiled back, her lips slightly humid with the brief touch. "No more?"

"I stink, Spencer", Emily weakly protested. "I can swear I'm still sweating alcohol. It's disgusting."

"There's nothing disgusting about you. I thought you were well aware of that fact."

"Stop being sweet. I don't deserve it."

Spencer chuckled. "You deserve every bit of it." She made a pause to think of her next words. "What if I go to jail next week? I think we should properly kiss before that happens."

It might have been a little over the top, but what the hell? In a way, it was the absolute truth. She wanted to properly kiss before she was imprisoned,  _if_  it ever got to happen.

"You're not seriously using that to make out with me tonight, right?" There was an underline of real surprise in Emily's words, but she couldn't conceal her other concerns. "Your mom's in the next room and I'm still drunk."

"She's actually a long way across the hallway", Spencer corrected. "And, besides, is it that bad that I wanna kiss you when I don't know what's gonna happen in a week? And you're not that drunk anymore."

Once again, she hit the mark tonight. She could see Emily debating over her words, her frown and her pout very slightly illuminated by the distant shadows that projected themselves in the room from the light of the street.

Emily's hand rested firmly on Spencer's neck, but she seemed indecisive as to the final move. So it was Spencer who did it this time, and caught the kiss in Emily's lips. She opened her mouth to show the kiss must be deepened, and Emily responded accordingly, though still tentatively, due to the embarrassment she still felt about her drunken state. However, when Spencer tasted and explored the inside of her mouth, there was nothing unpleasant in it, as there'd been nothing unpleasant in her breath or in her general appearance tonight. If all, the taste was different, yes, because it still possessed the distinctive trace of rum – now it was clear: strong and sweet – in her tongue and her saliva and in every corner of her mouth; but Spencer wouldn't say it was disgusting at all. In actuality, while they kissed, she realized she'd been waiting for this moment all the time, all night until they'd gotten here. Sure, they did need to talk, and Emily did need to sober up, and she'd been crying and feeling bad. True, Spencer had been scared to death, and paralyzed in fear, had run in a hurry, alert and ready and worried; had felt heartbroken too at the sight of Emily crying. But all the time, all she'd ever wanted was to reach this point when they'd feel good enough to do what they were supposed to do when A was not in the picture. This was what they were supposed to do: the kiss. She'd wanted to do it when she gave Emily the towel to get a shower and when she told her to come to bed next to her; she'd longed for it when she touched her wet, humid hair, the same hair she was brushing now with her fingers, sensing a distant touch of water at the back of her neck, where it took longer to dry; when they talked about A, about Samara, and then about A again the kiss was there, patiently waiting at the tip of her tongue, waiting like a leaf hanging on the tree to fall, like a drop that you wanted to catch inside your mouth when it started to rain. It was already there when she saw Emily in the distance of the parking lot, with her big Labrador puppy and her innocent air, before she realized she was so drunk she could barely walk. It was already there when she held her hand and tried to convince her to come with her to the car, even if she was so drunk she could barely say a sensible thing and all she did was cry. It was there when Emily threw up under a tree and it was there when Emily looked at her in anger at the stairs because her mother had caught her in that state and she felt humiliated. It was there all the time: the kiss. All the time, while they talked, while they breathed in silence, even while they argued whenever they did, the kiss was there all the time.

They kissed slowly but heavily for some minutes, and then Emily stopped – again. She pulled away and gave Spencer a darkened, misty look that sent chills down Spencer's body.

"I'm…", Emily started saying, but trailed off. "We should stop. I'm drunk."

Spencer contemplated the shadows on her face, wondering about her insistence on her drunkenness, but didn't let go.

"What are you afraid of?", she asked in a whisper.

Was she afraid of the kiss? Was she afraid of the kiss because she was drunk, or because they were in a bed, or because of all of those factors combined? Emily didn't want to say it or was  _also_  afraid to say it, so Spencer overcame her resistance and pulled her closer for another kiss. Now Spencer didn't only taste the alcohol inside of her mouth. She kissed and tasted her face, and smelled the smell of her hair, which was different too because she'd had to use Spencer's shampoo. And she realized she could never be badly heartbroken when it came to Emily, no matter what A made them do or say. Because she was already heartbroken, once again, she was already heartbroken in the style of that figure of speech that reflected a truth about Emily and a truth about herself too, because every time they kissed or touched or talked, her heart was smashed in smithereens of joy and affection and of that really crazy, demented element that both covered and shook her body like a electric bolt of lightning, that was most probably sexual desire, sexual attraction, pure and sheer want for the other person's complete self. Armed with that knowledge, armed with the weapon of her broken heart of joy, she reached under Emily's oversized T-shirt, the one Emily borrowed from her tonight, and pulled it up, hoping to uncover her complete self which was also her dark, beaming skin and her feminine, curvy waist and the lines that formed her stomach until her breasts appeared, her rounded, full breasts that were so different to her own. It was then that Emily sat on her knees and finished the movement with certainty and nerve, taking off the T, and then stopped and stared at Spencer, a gaze of want that could not really be held or contained any longer.

"Are you sure?"

Spencer didn't understand. Was she sure she wanted Emily to take off her T? Yes, she was absolutely sure of that; she'd actually started the movement to undress her.

Was she sure she wanted to have sex? Was she sure she wanted everything that could be done on a bed, about which she actually didn't have yet a clear, definite idea or plan, because it wasn't an idea or a plan? It was more of an act that still had to be  _done_.

Yes, she was sure too. She was sure all the time, all the time. Lately, she wasn't simply sure; the certainty mostly dominated her, even when she pretended she was actually thinking about something else that seemed to be more important.

"We don't need to give it a name", Spencer answered instead.

The name didn't matter. They didn't need to name it, they didn't even need to do much if they didn't want to get dirty. They just had to lie there and get naked.

Emily offered a coy smile. "Aren't you the one who's always giving names?", she asked, a teasing smirk on her face now.

She leaned down back to her mouth and they kissed with passion.

Yes, she was sure. And, no matter her shyness and her embarrassment, Emily was also sure. It was plain to see in her eyes and to taste in her still vaguely drunken kiss.

Heated and humid and not tentative at all anymore, the kiss developed and curled inside their mouths until the click happened. There was always a click. In every make-out situation between them there had been a click, a sudden, overwhelming change of disposition, ever since the first night when they kissed until the very same moment when Emily slid her hand under her dress in that restroom in Texas. Oh, that burning summer evening in Texas; the touch of her hand, and her eyes. The sole memory of it hit Spencer, and the click pushed inside, her guts torn with even more violence than it'd happen otherwise. The kiss grew harder, so their breathing became already difficult to sustain. It was a click that Spencer could  _almost_  hear: when the kiss stopped being just a kiss and became something more, something bigger and definitely dirtier. It was a kiss, but it was also more than a kiss. Then, after they both heard the click, their bodies seemed to escalate in tension and temperature, and the air became thick and dense. That was when the click happened, and now it was happening again. First there was the kiss, but then the click sounded and took over the room.

Spencer felt Emily's hands pulling her own T up and then over her head until she was also undressed, left only with her cotton panties. Indeed, Emily had also heard the click. In a sense, Emily  _was_  the click. Spencer didn't know why or how she did it. It was mainly Spencer who pushed for it and who created the necessary conditions, but it was Emily who clicked the click, no matter what Spencer did. It was Emily's hand under her shirt or Emily's hand under her dress or Emily's hand which, now, took Spencer's left hand and brought it to her lips to kiss her pulse point, and then, with a commanding gesture, pushed Spencer's body down on the bed. Instead of fighting it, of claiming her right to charge the debt of Texas, of taking the power and using it against Emily, Spencer allowed it. Why, why did she allow it, why did she weaken like that, why couldn't she really stop her from doing that and start doing it herself?

The answer was already clear: because she was easy.

She  _was_  easy. And, god, she didn't really mind being easy anymore, if it was for Emily. She'd rather be easy like this than try to play difficult and miserably fail.

So she lied down and allowed Emily to carry the lead once again. Not that being deprived of the lead meant that she'd stay quiet like a piece of meat or a statue of bronze. Her whole body was burning and twisting in desire when Emily sweetly kissed her armpits and her clavicle and trailed down her body until her teeth grazed her flat stomach and the curve of her waist in such a sexy, heated way that she both jerked up in tickles and in extreme arousal at the aggressive, yet delicately calculated touch. And it was  _only_  there. It was only her stomach and her waist, and she felt her back arching in a strange, sudden impulse, as if she couldn't really control anything  _at all_. She wondered what would happen now, both expecting it and fearing it, until Emily's mouth travelled furthered down, exactly as Spencer had actually imagined it was going to happen. Oh, the power of imagination. When she felt Emily's warm breath on her, the feeling was so intense she thought the Texas Restroom Experience was pale and shallow in front of what her body was making her feel now. The power of imagination paled too in the face of the reality, of the carnality of it. But it was only the beginning. It was only a mouthful of breath over a piece of fabric that was still covering her as a last barrier, and it seemed already more than she was able to take and bear in a second of her life.

Soon enough she would be taking a whole lot more. When Emily carefully started to take off her panties, slipping them off her legs, the weirdest thing played and danced inside her head. Images and sensations came and left in rapid, exciting flashes, leaving her breathless and thoughtless. Their first kiss, how warm and soft it'd been, natural and almost expected but still surprising, gave way to images of Emily's fingers working on opening a box of chocolates she'd received once as a gift, when Spencer realized how graceful and efficient her moves always were in every aspect of her physical motion. Emily's fleshy lips, Emily's meaty, red lips that time she put on really intense red lipstick for a party. Was she still with Ben at that time? She was drop-dead gorgeous and Spencer noticed it because she never usually wore that much make-up, and, god, she was actually impressed; she was, but she didn't know why. She thought she had a beautiful friend. Her lips when they talked, and her lips when she tried smoking that time, at her house, in the living room, and her pout when she was cute, and her wet, humid, lasting kisses when she kissed her shamelessly like she was doing now. Like she was doing now. Oh, Jesus Motherfucking Christ. Maybe she should stop screaming blasphemies inside her head. Had she actually said it inside her head? She wasn't really sure. Maybe she was actually  _talking_  and screaming these things and making awful sounds she didn't even realize. Had she talked? A sudden flush of embarrassment washed over her because, for god's sake (there again), she hoped she was  _not_  talking now. But she didn't seem to know, and the shyness didn't last either, because nothing seemed to last enough except the long, last humid kiss, and every image gave pass to another one, and soon it was Emily's eyes, Emily's eyelashes, Emily's long eyelashes and Emily's dark eyes that she wanted to look into, but couldn't now, because right now she couldn't even reach her head except with her fingers that were clinging to her like claws.

She did try to close her mouth. She did try to contain herself, unsure as to why, but she tried. Emily's hands pushed softly against her inner thighs, spreading her legs, and she wondered if she was choking her down? Was she choking her, could she breathe, what was going on? Suddenly she realized her fingers were clinging even harder to Emily's head now. She tried to relax, tried not to press too hard or to scratch too heavy or to pull Emily's hair; she tried not to say anything, not to cry out anything, not to invoke the Lord or God or any other mystical, divine entity, she tried not to make a fool of herself, but this wasn't foolish, right? This was just sex. Oh, Jesus, but it  _was_  sex. It was sex already. It was dirty sex. So she just tried to feel it, but this wasn't only a  _feeling_. Feelings were lame in comparison to this, and her back arched again, and her whole body was sent in the most shocking shock of all the worldly shocks that ever existed, and she lost control of her legs to a point where she got afraid she might be pressing Emily down and sending her to her death. The shock came and stroke with powerful energy, elevating her body and making her blackout in the night, and this time she did hear herself cry out a moan, which fortunately wasn't a god or any other entity with a meaning. It didn't go away yet. She trembled, and curled, and twisted against Emily's mouth, and cried out something else that managed to come out of her mouth. And it happened. It was a thousand times more intense than anything she'd ever felt, including Texas, including that black-eyed Texas orgasm.

When it passed, she laid there feeling stunned once again, unable to move even though she wanted to reach Emily and look into her eyes, look inside them.

It took Emily a few seconds but she trailed back all the way up, still working with her sweet little kisses and her intoxicating tongue. When her beautiful face was within reach, Spencer grabbed her neck and pulled her to her mouth, where she kissed her softly. Oh, god. Oh, god again. Please forgive me, if you do exist, for saying your name or any other name in vain, in this kind of unholy situation, but she was in fucking love. No pun intended. Although it was kind of funny, but mainly it was true: she was totally sold out and easy and in love, and she was so happy about it she couldn't care less if she went to jail. Well, she did care, but not right now. At least she was getting to have sex before it happened.

Emily kissed her back with unhidden, revelling passion and, in between the kiss, searched for her eyes. Reassuringly so, but wanting to be reassured in a way too, they kissed some more, while Spencer slowly recovered her breathing and her general sense of being a whole person and not a trembling, nerving web of desires. Once she recovered enough, while they still kissed, she tried to make out and conceive a plan in her head. She listened to Emily's breathing, which was as intense and heavy as her kiss was now, and she pushed her decidedly so now she'd be the one to be on top and manage the situation. She might be the easy one, but that didn't mean Emily was getting away with this. Oh, no, she wasn't getting away with it. Spencer wanted badly to have the same effect on her. She wanted badly to make her feel the same sensation, to drive her crazy and send her over the top. So she started to kiss her around, here and there, and after a while she followed the path down. Taking her time, she teased and grazed with a direct aim in her head, tasting both the memory of water and soap and the vague trace of alcohol and the immanent, deep fragrance of sexual energy that Emily's curvy body exhaled. However, it was halfway through the torturing trail when she felt Emily's gentle touch, pulling her head up back to her. Spencer looked into Emily's eyes, trying to understand the meaning of it. Was she doing it wrong? But she hadn't even gotten started. Was Emily really stopping her? Didn't she want this? Oh, no, but things did not work like this. Not in  _their_ world and in  _their_  bed. Spencer wanted to get to do stuff too.

"Stay here", Emily murmured in a very low, sweet tone. "I wanna see you."

Oh, so maybe that was it? She wanted to see her, to look at her face. During the Texas Restroom Experience, that had undoubtedly been the best, sexiest plus of the whole situation. So maybe Emily was right and it was better to "stay" here, face to face, eye to eye, mouth to mouth.

Yes, she would definitely stay. That was clear. The plan had to change, though. She kissed her again, delaying any decision, torturing Emily with her slow kiss, and then she sucked and bit her neck and her earlobes, her shoulders and her breasts, while her fingers traced patterns on her ribs and her stomach that would lead to the very same aim, to the very same aim where her mouth had been previously headed. A flow of information came to her mind, causing her to feel a pang of anxiety. Was she taking too much time? Should she actually work faster? Emily seemed to know the rhythm that every action required, but it was difficult for her to be sure of it. She had probably read too many things about how to have sex with a girl and had now an excess of useless images and inputs and data. They were blocking her, filling her head with doubts and vague decisions, like one of those people who showed up for an exam after an all-nighter and had to leave after a while because their mind was blank. But that sort of thing never happened to her. She nailed every exam! She was always calm in the face of knowledge, except this wasn't about  _knowing_  anything. Now she wasn't only the easy one; she was the clumsy one as well, the one who didn't know what to do in bed. How did Emily know it so well? Was it true she'd never done anything with anyone? Well, of course it was true. Emily didn't lie about that kind of thing. She just happened to be perfect, while Spencer wasn't.

"Are you all right?", Emily breathlessly asked, taking Spencer's face in her hands.

"Yeah", she answered. "I'm just… I'm trying to…" Great, and now she stuttered over it.

Emily smiled. With a resolved movement (wasn't she always resolved when it came to this?), she grabbed Spencer's hand, which was already resting on her lower stomach, and carefully placed it on her shorts, between her legs.

"It's easy." She obviously had the power to read Spencer's mind. "Just feel your way around. Just touch around and listen to it."

"What if you don't like it?", Spencer asked, feeling a little panicked at her own question.

"There's no way I won't like it, Spencer", Emily answered. "Just relax."

She softly pressed Spencer's hand with her own fingers to show her it'd be fine, she didn't need to worry about it, and she closed her eyes in a clear sign of pleasure at the touch. The mere vision of it made Spencer feel dizzy and funny. Yes, she had to relax. It shouldn't be that difficult. Perhaps the key to this was the fact that it wasn't an exam and she wasn't going to be graded. It was sort of a game: she got to play with her toys and she won a prize anyway. The prize was there; it was the game itself. So she did what she'd been told, and Emily kissed her hotly, even uncontrollably: that was a good sign, a response. It was easy, in a way. There  _was_  a response. There was an immediate, powerful  _sense_  of a response, and it felt crazy good to obtain it, so she decided to slide her fingers under Emily's shorts to try her luck. It was a bold move, but the most natural one, and the response was, once again, immediate and powerful enough to send her own body on a rampage. She pulled away from the heavy kiss to steal a long gaze to Emily's face, the way she'd been asked to do when Emily had told her to stay.

There was pure, uncorrupted sex on Emily's face. Was that the look of sex?

Both vulnerable and sweaty, her eyes were closed but sometimes managed to send a misty, darkened signal for Spencer to decode. What did it mean? Did it mean she had to move, or was it something else, did it mean she wanted to be kissed? Spencer kissed her, and the kiss was heatedly returned. She moved too, pressing harder. The pressure she applied with her hand caused Emily to deeply moan. Listen to it. Listen to the sound of her body, in her throat.

It tasted like victory literally on her hands.

It felt so intoxicating that she did it again, gaining another sound and a purely sexual, dominating glance from Emily even though it was Spencer who was now in command. She was starting to learn the tricks and she liked it. This was what power meant. This was why Emily liked to take the lead. Maybe she was a slower learner but she was going to learn: power was toxic, it created a space between their bodies that no one would ever understand or possess but themselves, it burned the air around them and it made them go up in flames. And, hell, she liked listening to it, hearing its crackles and its sizzles in her ears while Emily slowly burned under her hand. She moved, trying to reposition her body on a more comfortable posture to continue her education in sexual power. But, when she moved, she felt Emily move also under her, and suddenly Emily's thigh pressed between her own legs, sending a wave of pleasure around her body. She was surprised when she looked down at her.

"Move", Emily ordered, a sly expression on her face. "A little."

Was Emily ordering her around in bed?

Her voice was sweet and gentle. It didn't even sound like an order, but it was. When had the world transformed into this new place? Shy, drunken-and-still-shy Emily with her direct, softly-spoken orders, her sly, mischievous smile, sent new shocks all the way up to her hair while she moved, a little as she'd been ordered, trying at the same time to drive Emily wild. This was a competition against herself, as it seemed. If she kept moving against Emily's thigh she was going to lose it again. She tried to focus instead on the movement of her hand, following Emily's look and sound of sex.

There was no way Emily was getting away with this.

Slowing down her own movement, she shut down the waves and shocks of pleasure that intermittently crashed against her. Hand, only her hand. That was her focus. That was her need, her urgency, her only real want. She lowered down her head, in revengeful mode, and bit Emily's full lips, kissing her hardly, knowing it'd take her by surprise. It did, and she moaned again. Oh, the moan. Listen to the moan. Listen to the sound of her body, to the sounds that were forming at the back of her throat. Another glance of both mist and dark followed, another message to be decoded and broken; but Spencer just stared back, ruthless and without pity, and Emily opened her mouth in surprise, lifted her head, stupefied, stunned (oh, yes, stunned), trying to reach Spencer's mouth, and finally cried and trembled while Spencer finally surrendered, lowering her head again for the kiss.

The glances had been decoded. They were kiss-me-now glances. They were look-at-me-and-kiss-me-now glances.

They were sex glances.

They were Emily having sex. With her. On her bed.

She repeated the whole operation until Emily went wild and finally lost it.

It was victory, power.

It was sex.

Emily took a while to recover until she opened her eyes to let Spencer see her under the dreamy, sexy curtain of her closed eyelashes. She smiled sweetly, and Spencer automatically smiled back. She laid her back on the bed, trying to recover her own breathing, until she decided to climb on top again.

They looked at each other.

"I almost gave you another one", Emily suddenly smirked, her voice low and a little shaky. "I win."

Spencer frowned at her, amused but still surprised. She  _did_  want to get away with it.

"I didn't know this was a competition."

Emily wrapped her arms around Spencer's neck and laughed. "It's always a competition with you." Then she rolled over her so they'd be positioned at the same level. "I'm kidding."

"You're not."

Emily softly laughed again. "No, seriously, I am." Another long gaze followed. "Was it good?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

"Yeah."

Spencer cocked an eyebrow at her. "I think you already know it was good. You just want to hear it."

"Yeah, I wanna hear", Emily smirked again. Sex actually got the best out of her, including all the weapons of cuteness at her disposal.

"Well, I wanna hear too", Spencer answered. "Especially after you had to indicate me what to do and how to do it."

She rested on Emily's shoulder, hiding her face. Emily chuckled a little at her words and shy attitude.

"Oh, now you're laughing at me. Great."

"I'm not laughing at you." She moved down so she could face Spencer again. "It was pretty hot. And it wasn't in a restroom, so it's finally sex. Now we can baptize it."

Spencer couldn't help smiling at her words. "It was much better than the restroom thing."

"Definitely", she agreed.

"I told you a make-up kiss was a good idea."

"I knew it wouldn't be just a kiss."

"So why did it take you so long to do it?"

Emily seemed serious for a moment. "Well, showing up drunk in front of your mother is bad enough. Now it turns out I also showed up to have sex while she peacefully sleeps in the next room."

It was Spencer who chuckled this time. "It's not the next room."

"Anyways", Emily argued. "I'm a really bad, disrespectful person. Tomorrow I have to apologize to your mom and I'll just have to look at her knowing I screwed up, got drunk and then ended up doing… this."

Spencer gave her a crooked smile. "I hope you leave this part out."

"Don't worry, I'll stick to your harmless story", she assured, revealing she'd actually heard most of the conversation with her mom. Then she lost part of her glow and seriousness returned to her features. "I don't even wanna think about whatever's gonna happen tomorrow."

Spencer moved even closer and gave her a kiss on the nose. "Don't think about tomorrow then."

They stayed like this, silent and in a tight embrace, for a while.

Suddenly Emily rolled on her back and took her hands to her head. "Shit, I feel good", she exclaimed. "I don't even have a headache."

Spencer laughed and popped on her elbows to look at her. "It's called sex. Apparently it cures every illness."

"I thought that was a lie."

"Now you can get drunk as much as you want, as long as we're having sex afterwards."

Emily smiled, but not widely. "I'm not getting drunk like this again. Next time I'll be sober."

"Will you be so good when you're sober?", Spencer teased.

"I'll always be good."

She was obviously buzzed both with sex and alcohol, because she wasn't shying away easily anymore.

Spencer approached her again and positioned herself on top. "Then it'll be me who'll get drunk."

They kissed. "I don't think you need to get drunk", Emily whispered. "I like you this way."

"You sure?"

"Totally."

"I still have to learn all your tricks so you don't go kissing Samara."

Emily stared back at her in silence. "That's not funny."

"It is if you give it the right turn."

"I don't have to give it any turn to know it's not funny", Emily responded calmly. "And I think you're learning my tricks pretty fast. Faster than me, probably."

Yes, in a way she was, Spencer agreed to herself. Fast enough, at least. And she was sure she would get even faster. She leaned down and they kissed slowly on the bed where they'd finally, finally done what they had to do, even if the circumstances had not seemed to be the most appropriate ones.

If there was such a thing as love, she was fully in it. They were totally, completely in it. And it was for the long run, despite A and every prison on the face of earth that wanted to take her in.

Soon afterwards, Emily fell asleep. Spencer watched her for a while, worried about when the next text from A would come. Maybe this one wouldn't be for her; maybe it would be for Spencer. After a while, she fell asleep too.

In the morning it was Spencer who woke up first. She decided to get up and let Emily sleep for as long as she needed. She had been through a really rough couple of nights and she needed the rest, so Spencer went downstairs to the kitchen, read a note written by her mother telling her she had told Ms. Marin Emily was at the Hastings and reminding her Emily should be back at her house during the morning, and made coffee and toasts for breakfast. Even though the light of day reminded her of every tragic possibility she still had to face during the next days, she couldn't really feel tragic or crashed by reality. She felt she hadn't really landed in the other, dreaded universe yet. She was still living in the dark, sexy night. She was still under the power of Emily's kiss. Oh, she couldn't get much cheesier than the way she felt now. It was better not to speak about it, or she would sound as a stupid pop love song, as a crazy scream of joy in the wind.

She waited for a couple of hours until she decided to go back upstairs. When she opened the door to her room, expecting to find a still sleeping Emily, she found her instead making the bed, dressed in the oversized T-shirt and the shorts that Spencer had given her last night.

"Hey, you're up", Spencer brightly greeted her.

"Yep."

She seemed busy while she made the bed. Or maybe she was shy again? Spencer approached her with curiosity.

"I made us some breakfast. Although I already had mine."

Emily gave her a shy smile. Oh, so she  _was_  shy. Shy and glowing. "Sorry I overslept", she apologized. "I was so tired."

"Yeah, you needed it", Spencer answered, amused. She approached her and hugged her from behind, until Emily turned around and kissed her on the lips.

"Where's your mom?"

"Working."

"Oh, thank god." She kissed her with more intensity now. "I didn't even want to wander out of the room just in case."

They kissed until a phone beeped and they both froze.

"It's mine", Emily said, her face suddenly somber.

Spencer tried to get the phone but Emily sent her a warning look and took it in her hands. She read the text and then passed the phone to Spencer.

" _Poor Em, you didn't have it in you. Nevermind: you'll get to visit her._  – A"

Emily let her body slip on the bed she'd just made and pushed her face against the sheets. Spencer sat next to her and caressed her beautiful long dark hair.

"A's right", Spencer happily joked. "Do they allow marital visits for people who're not married?"

Emily's head moved a little to send Spencer a bad look, but didn't answer anything, so Spencer lied down next to her body and spoke into her ear. "Let's take this one step at a time, okay?"

Emily nodded, her face still muffled against the sheets.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Because the Night", song written by Bruce Springsteen but immortally covered by Patti Smith.


	11. The Hastings Motto

Emily quietly rang the bell of the Hastings' front door after taking a deep, courage-inducing breath. A couple of minutes passed until Veronica Hastings opened, with a surprised expression on her face that rapidly disappeared into a blank, slightly welcoming glance.

"Emily", Ms. Hastings greeted. "I didn't know you were coming tonight. Come in."

And so Emily came in, thankful that it hadn't been Spencer who'd opened the door. Delaying the apology would only make her more anxious about it. It was better to do it already, to get it over with as soon as possible; and to do it preferably with no witnesses. She didn't know if she'd be able to say what she wanted to say in front of Peter Hastings; even of Spencer, because she'd probably blush in a mixture of guilt and pleasure if she had to say only part of the truth, or rather if she had to  _silence_  the other part of the truth, the one she wasn't going to apologize for although she still felt slightly bad about it. It would be harder to talk to Spencer's mother if Spencer was there in the same room with them, observing her with her typical cutting, amused, bewildered glances.

She followed Ms. Hastings through the kitchen into the living room.

"Spencer's in her room."

Ms. Hastings pointed at the stairs with her hand and prepared to disappear again into one of the rooms, probably her own study. The woman moved so fast. Emily had better be quick or Ms. Hastings would leave before she even found her voice to speak a word.

"I actually wanted to talk to you, Ms. Hastings." Her voice came out a little weak, but firm enough to not sound as the scared child she was now. "It'll only take a moment."

Ms. Hastings stopped walking away and turned around to look at Emily with curiosity. Emily was a little afraid to see disdain or contempt in her after she'd watched her in such a disgraced state yesterday night, but she could only distinguish that very slight touch of curiosity that indicated she might be interested in whatever Emily had to say, but not as much as to spend a lot of time listening to a lengthy explanation. She probably had a lot to do. In fact, Emily hoped she was preparing for Spencer's hearing. Whatever the case, Emily would need to be direct and forward before the woman decided to slip from the living room, leaving her with an open mouth and a mind full of excuses.

Ms. Hastings didn't sit on the couch or on a chair. She just stood a little rigidly and prepared herself to listen.

"Call me Veronica, Emily", she advised. It wasn't the first time she'd said this, but Emily kept making the mistake from time to time. "How are you feeling today?"

Here was the first direct allusion to the drunkenness of the last night, and Emily blushed a little at the mere mention of it.

"Much better, thank you", Emily responded, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room too. "That's more or less the reason I wanted to talk to you."

Apparently, Ms. Hastings noticed they were both a little awkward because she smiled at Emily and started moving towards the kitchen with an inviting gesture.

"Let's go to the kitchen", she said while Emily followed. "I'll have a coke. Would you like one?"

Emily agreed to have one, if only to start the conversation politely. Back in the kitchen, she took a sip of her coke and decided to speak right after Veronica Hastings turned around to face her in expectation, but her voice didn't easily work and the words got confused and mixed up in her tongue.

"Tell me", Veronica Hastings straightforwardly invited her to speak, noticing her confusion.

"I really want to apologize for what happened yesterday night", Emily started, her voice wavering a little after she'd managed to order the sentence in her head. "I'm very sorry about it. It shouldn't have happened. But I also want to thank you for taking me in despite all, and for…" Here she trailed off and hesitated, trying to find the correct expression. "For not telling my mother."

She didn't want to make it sound as if that was the most important thing. She was actually  _very_  sorry not only because she'd gotten drunk but mainly because she'd been  _seen_ by Spencer's mother. And by Caleb. Oh, no, but Spencer's mother was worse, much worse. It was awful. It was terrible. It was a disaster, and that was why she was here.

Veronica Hastings smiled again at her, but sent her a cutting look that was very similar to those her daughter was an expert in offering to people when she wanted to impress them.

"I appreciate your apologizing to me, Emily", Ms. Hastings answered slowly. "I actually didn't expect less of you. It shows you're both brave and responsible and that's how I always thought you were."

Emily nodded, swallowing: she knew the message behind Ms. Hastings' words was directed at those other things she didn't expect from or thought of her, like the fact that she might become an alcoholic mess who'd appear at her home in the middle of the night.

Ms. Hastings left her glass of coke on the counter, her eyes not leaving Emily's face.

"I know I made a very bad decision", Emily extended her apology. "It was totally foolish of me."

"Spencer told me about that, yes", Ms. Hastings cut in, and Emily inwardly thanked her because that kept her from giving excuses that should confine to Spencer's story. She talked as if she believed Spencer out of convenience and not exactly because Spencer had told the whole truth. "And as much as I appreciate the fact that you were trying to help Spencer, I think you both should stop trying to do things that are not suitable for your age and that won't really help you stay focused on your real obligations, and let the adults take care of those other things."

Emily nodded again. If only Ms. Hastings knew half the things that were happening in Rosewood, perhaps she wouldn't be so harsh on them. But she couldn't know, and neither Spencer nor Emily could tell her. Besides, it wasn't as if Ms. Hastings had actually taken care of  _those other things_  back when Ian was trying to murder her daughter; her _other_ daughter.

"Yes, I know." Emily tried to look as truly apologetic, brave and responsible as she could. "And I promise it won't happen again."

This time it was Ms. Hastings who nodded in acceptance.

"We like you, Emily", she asserted, her tone less sharp now. "I hope you know that. You've always been a really nice girl and we like having you around."

Emily offered her trademark sweet-and-polished smile. "I do know, Ms… Veronica. I've always liked being around here too."

She'd always liked being around Spencer, so that worked as well, right?

"I hope you don't do anything similar in the future, though, because if you do I  _will_  have to tell your mother." There came the warning that somehow Emily was still expecting. "You understand I have to tell you this."

"Yes, I know", Emily repeated. "And, as I said, I'm very sorry I caused so much trouble. But, really, it won't happen again."

And she was  _absolutely_  serious about this one. Whatever A did again to push her, to force her to do anything against Spencer, Hanna or Aria, but especially against Spencer, she would never again resort to alcohol either to encourage herself or to shut herself down. Never. That was clear and definite for her in the future. She'd rather do anything else than that. It'd been an epic fail: first, because it hadn't helped her carry her decision through; she hadn't really been able to pursue either a good-looking, harmless boy or a girl who'd be susceptible to her charms, or even to get Samara in motion; then, she hadn't even forgotten about it, which was her only hope after becoming so wasted; she remembered every awful, miserable thing about the night. Worse than that, Spencer was still in a difficult position. Every consequence had been bad, except for  _that_  one consequence she shouldn't start thinking about while she was still looking at Veronica Hastings' face. Although that one was the only thing that was good about last night, still – it shouldn't have happened like that. It wasn't supposed to happen like that. It was supposed to happen when Spencer's parents were not in the house. But it had happened. It had happened, and she felt a rush of heat creep up to her face when the thought slowly cut its way through every negative thing that was making her feel apologetic and responsible, obnoxiously lightening her heart and her head.

Yes, she  _was_  the thief in the night.

It made her feel ashamed, but happy at the same time. It was worth it.

She knew she wouldn't control herself the moment Spencer mentioned a make-up kiss. There was no human way to control that  _even_  if she'd been sober, which she wasn't; she wasn't sober, she was still so drunk, and that made her loss of control so much easier. Every principle, limit and rule was completely left aside for future consideration. She totally went for it in every way and with every inch of her body, regardless of everything that wasn't Spencer on the bed. The fact that it'd been so easy did cause a commotion in her moral system of values, but not as much as to really, really regret it. She couldn't really regret something like that. It'd been too good to regret it, to penalize it, to think of it as something that was wrong or that shouldn't have happened. It was right. It was more than right. It was so freaking awesome and it just had to be repeated (without alcohol). Ironically enough, she'd started the night thinking she'd lose Spencer, at least until the course of their love was somehow restored; thinking of that experience in Texas, thinking it'd be the only one to cherish if they were forced to break up. But by the end of the night she'd gotten so much out of a bedroom she couldn't still believe it. Somehow she'd become the queen of inappropriateness and audacity without actually trying. Apparently, that was what happened when you were in love and, therefore, sexual about it. There was no caution in her once she reached that level, and she felt strangely happy about it, mainly because Spencer seemed to enjoy it as well. Perhaps they were both crazy people, perhaps they just had too many hormones flying around wild and free. Perhaps it was both.

Whatever the reason, she tried to focus on Ms. Hastings' face.

"It's good to see you're so clear about it", Ms. Hastings said. "You girls should be enjoying the summer and preparing for the year to come. It's a really important year. Are you finally settled on Danby?"

Emily inwardly thanked her dark skin, which somehow masked her increasing blush.

"Yeah, probably", she answered, remembering  _that_  other lie she had to keep up to. "If I finally get the scholarship."

"You should definitely try other colleges too, Emily", Ms. Hastings advised. "Danby is good, but there are others which are also good. Spencer's always talking about how you should try Princeton with her as well."

She was? Well, she'd never said anything of the sort to Emily.

"Really?" Emily echoed the surprise in her mind. "Well, Princeton might be a little too much for me, but I definitely see Spencer there."

"She should work harder too", Ms. Hastings warned. "But with your swimming, Emily, you shouldn't rule out any good schools, you know. And you've got good grades too. Just give it some thought and work really hard this year so you don't lose any chance to get the best you can get out of it."

Emily gave yet another firm, serious nod. In a sense, the Hastings passion about reaching outstanding goals and acquiring perfection was also invading her existence. She was Spencer's girlfriend, so she guessed it made sense. But it felt weird for her. She'd always been moderately ambitious about her academic possibilities, and was well aware of her limits. She'd always cared about being good in whatever she did, but not about being the best.

She already had a lot of trouble with that Danby fake letter, anyway.

"So, Emily", Ms. Hastings started to close off the conversation, "you can go now upstairs to say hello to Spencer, if you want."

"Yeah", Emily agreed. "I have to be home for dinner, but I'll go up say hi."

Ms. Hastings started to leave the kitchen, already in a hurry, when Emily suddenly felt rushed to ask her a question.

"Veronica", she called after her, remembering to use the first name in time. Ms Hastings turned around again, a little confused. "Sorry. I just… Will Spencer be all right? With the hearing and all that's coming?"

It was probably a stupid question, taking into account that Ms. Hastings didn't know about the bloody hockey stick yet. They hadn't had any news from A during the day, ever since she got that text in the morning.

Ms. Hastings stood at the threshold and her eyes cut through Emily's body like a chainsaw.

"Don't worry about that, Emily."

She sent her a sympathetic, yet distant look. It was the kind of look you send to a child when you want to calm her down also to show that it's none of her business. Then she left the kitchen and disappeared into the house. Ms. Hastings was a well-known lawyer, acute and sharp, but she didn't know either about A or about the hockey stick. It might be true that this wasn't Emily's business, because she was no lawyer and no doctor and no policewoman and not even good enough at seducing a nobody; but at the same time it  _was_  her business. It was Spencer, and everything about Spencer was now her business. She'd been thrown the poisoned apple to save Spencer from jail, and she had become intoxicated with it instead of actually saving her; now she wondered about what was going to happen to Spencer, to both of them. Because she still couldn't deal with the idea that Spencer might go to jail. She couldn't, no matter what Spencer said about eventually getting out, about being in love as opposed to being free, about having sex before being imprisoned, about all those things they had talked about yesterday night.

Spencer couldn't go to jail.

Spencer was destined to really big, important things and could not go to jail.

The light Emily felt in her heart grew dark and heavy with this thought.

Too small to try a shot at defending Spencer from everything that could happen, Emily entrusted herself to Ms. Hastings, the woman who'd just left the kitchen after giving her the impression that this was a world only adults could understand and deal with. Even though that was clearly a lie. Nobody could understand and deal with A, or else Dr. Sullivan would be alive. She sighed, and walked towards the stairs with the sigh still on her lips, praying for Veronica Hastings to actually be able to rock the legal system and crack every one of A's evil plans against Spencer.

She knocked and then opened the door, popping her head inside the room. Spencer was sitting on her bed, looking anxious, and immediately stood up when she saw Emily appear. She offered her a bright smile, which Emily instantly returned as she entered the room.

"Hey, how did it go?"

"Did you know I was downstairs?"

"I saw your car and I figured you wouldn't want me there", Spencer explained. "So how did it go?"

She spoke like a little girl wanting to know every detail.

"It went moderately well, I think", Emily answered, while she leaned against Spencer's study table. "I hope."

Spencer stood next to her. "Trust me, moderately well is very good when it comes to my parents. So it's good."

"Yeah." Emily offered a little smile. "I just came to say hi to you."

"Only hi?" Spencer leaned in and kissed Emily on the lips. "Hi then. And see ya."

Emily smiled wider and wrapped her arms around Spencer's waist. "I gotta be back for dinner. Hanna's mom's a little suspicious about the whole thing, so I'd better not push it."

"You already said hello", Spencer teased, breathing really close to Emily. "You're free to go now."

The immediate result was a kiss, longer and deeper than the mere hello-how-did-it-go one. When they separated, Emily kept breathing Spencer's breath.

"So do you ever talk to your mom about us going to Princeton?", Emily asked, out of curiosity.

"What? No." Spencer seemed surprised. But then she looked thoughtful. "I might've mentioned it a couple times. Why?"

"It's just that your mom mentioned it now, like I should try really hard to get into a really good college, and then she said you  _constantly_  talk about me going to Princeton with you."

"I don't  _constantly_  talk about it", Spencer said. "I just, you know how my parents are. So I just talk about getting into Princeton if I don't go to jail, and then I sort of imagine us going there together, so I don't have to travel long distance to Danby or to another college."

Emily smiled. "That's sweet." She was the one to kiss her on the lips this time. "We both know I'll never get into Princeton."

"Maybe I won't either, but you never know", Spencer winked. "So you're not staying for a while?"

"I can't", Emily pouted, "but I'd like to."

"Yeah, I bet you would."

Her sultry, raspy voice immediately lighted Emily's heart and whole body again. It was as if she was continuously torn between joy and anguish.

"I definitely would." She decided to give her most explicit agreement, and Spencer smiled brightly. "I'll try to spend the whole day with you tomorrow. Don't you wanna come have dinner with me and Hanna?"

"Didn't you just say Ms. Marin is kinda worn out with you?"

"It's more with Hanna, to tell the truth", Emily explained. "She took the fall, so I have to be there, since it's, you know, it's my fault really."

Spencer nodded. "Then it's better if I don't show up tonight."

Emily already expected that outcome, but she felt a little disappointed with it.

"I just asked your mom about the hearing", she decided to say. "She seems pretty sure nothing's gonna happen to you. But she doesn't know about the hockey stick."

"Nothing's come up yet", Spencer answered, separating a little to gain a better view of Emily's face. "Have you heard anything new from A?"

"Not since this morning." Emily frowned a little at Spencer. "And I'd tell you if I got another text. We have an agreement now."

"I was just checking."

Emily's frown slightly increased, which made Spencer raise her finger and press in order to dissipate it.

"Relax."

"Aren't you scared?", Emily asked. "You can tell me if you're scared, you know."

"I'm okay. I have the best lawyer."

Emily quietly observed Spencer's face for a couple of seconds. "You  _can_  tell me, Spencer."

"If I tell you", Spencer half teased, "you might just go running and disappear in the night to make out with some stranger."

Emily rolled her eyes. "That's not gonna happen anymore. Time's out, and we already talked about this."

"What's more important? That time's out or that we talked about it?"

Emily checked the correct answer in Spencer's test. "That we talked about it." Then she pulled Spencer closer, taking her by surprise. "You don't have to protect me from myself, you know."

"I'm not so sure", Spencer answered in a mock tone, but then she gave her a serious look. "I  _am_  a little scared, yeah. Well, I'm scared shitless, but I'm trying not to show and it'll help me if you play along."

Emily felt her heart sink at Spencer's confession, but she was right: if she wanted to help her, she had to play along instead of worrying her further. So she just swallowed her choked throaty knot and gave her a soft kiss on her crooked nose.

"Your mom scares the hell out of everybody. She's like you, but worse."

Spencer laughed, but feigned shock. "What do you mean she's like me? She's  _much_  worse." Then she pressed her forehead against Emily's. "Did she totally scare you?"

"Not totally", Emily admitted. "Almost totally."

"That's my girl. You don't get easily scared by a Hastings."

"But there's only one Hastings I can actually handle easily", Emily teased, and it was the truth.

"Oh, here we go again with the easy thing", Spencer playfully scolded. "And now you're actually proud of how you handle me, huh?"

"I'm pretty happy about it, yeah", Emily played along, holding Spencer's gaze. "Aren't you?"

The sexual undertone of the joke Spencer herself had more or less set in motion was suddenly too much to bear in light of the recent circumstances, so Emily finally gave in for another long kiss that lasted until the sound of a car's engine made Emily's heart jump. They were really close to the window in Spencer's room, so they both pulled away.

"It's my dad", Spencer said, peeking out of the window. "Apparently he's decided to come by tonight."

Emily caught a glimpse of the clock besides Spencer's bed. "I have to get going. I'm already late for dinner."

Her hand was grabbed when she was already moving away from the table.

"You'll call me later?"

"Yeah, after dinner. And after that", Emily joked, but in truth that was what she'd probably do anyway. "And then again after that."

Spencer accompanied her to the door, where she sort of cornered her before letting her out.

"Make sure you spend the day with me tomorrow. I wanna enjoy my last day of freedom."

Emily frowned again. "Stop that."

"I'm gonna use it as much as I need to."

She grinned, and Emily frowned more intensely before kissing her briefly.

"You should know you don't really need to use it."

They kissed again, this time more longingly, until Spencer decided to finally give Emily space to leave the room. She heard her walk down the stairs and say hello to her father, and finally, once she approached the window again, she saw Emily's fit, dark figure get into her car and drive away from her house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In 2x10 Spencer told Toby the Hastings motto: "why enjoy today if you can worry about tomorrow?"


	12. This Is Love, This Is Porn

"Okay, guys, you can stop that already."

Spencer, Emily and Aria simultaneously turned their heads to look at Hanna, who was sitting awkwardly under the cooling shadow of a tree, trying not to come into contact with anything organic. The summer provided hundreds of opportunities to hang out outside, and Hanna had been willingly forced again to enjoy the hot weather, the dried out, almost-yellow straws of grass and the buzzing bugs. Spencer's insistence had cashed in, since they all were ready to please her after she'd been convicted to do community service for her still mysterious implication in Dr. Sullivan's disappearance.

"Stop what?", Spencer asked.

"The longing glances."

"What longing glances?", Emily inquired this time, rolling her eyes at Hanna's new attempt to take advantage of the same old joke, even though it'd been a long time since she'd tried this one. "We're just talking."

Hanna sent a direct, cutting-diamond glance to Emily.

"You're not talking, Em. You're not even glancing. I'm trying to be nice here when I say you have to stop it  _now_."

Emily tried to ignore her this time, but Spencer decided to join the confrontation.

"We're not even talking to each other."

They were actually talking to Aria about this new guy she was using as a beard to keep dating Mr. Ezra Fitz in the hideout.

"I know I made a lot of bad jokes about porn back when you started dating and all", Hanna explained to Spencer in an acid tone, "and I'm so, so sorry for being mean to you back then. But, trust me, what's happening now is not what used to happen then. Now it's become  _true_."

Spencer totally disregarded Hanna and continued talking to Aria about the new guy, who seemed to be sketchy but at the same time charming (could he be A? No, he couldn't, he had been living abroad for a whole year.)

"Aria", Hanna called out.

"Yeah?"

"Speak up, Aria. I need you here."

Aria held Hanna's pleading stare for a second, and then turned to Spencer, who was standing next to her.

"She's kinda right", Aria said in an almost apologetic tone. "It does feel like we're intruding. Like we're walking in on you without knocking."

"What?", Emily's voice came from her place next to Hanna under the tree. She wasn't even  _that_  close to Spencer and Aria, and was participating sporadically in their conversation. "That's simply not true."

Spencer sent her own version of a cutting-diamond glance to Aria: it was less of a diamond and more of a hardly veiled stab-to-death stare. "I wonder how you could be walking in on us without knocking when we're  _in a park_ , in the open air and  _under the sun_."

"We're under a tree", Hanna corrected, gaining an eyebrow-raising by Spencer. "And that's exactly what I meant. It feels like we're not invited, like we shouldn't be here."

"No, Hanna", Emily exclaimed. "What are we exactly doing that is so… weird?"

She suddenly grew too wary of the word  _porny_  now that Aria seemed to seriously agree with Hanna. There was also the fact that they might be vaguely right about this. What if she was being porny without realizing it? What if everybody could  _see_  it? What if it was plain and simple to see now that they were having sex for real?

"It's nonsense, Em", Spencer turned to look at Emily.

"Let me try to explain this", Hanna slowly started. "It feels like… like you just had sex five minutes ago, you're gonna have sex behind that bush in another five minutes and you're still having sex with your eyes in the meantime."

"For god's sake, no", Emily exclaimed again, a little scandalized at the idea.

Hanna looked again at Aria.

"Maybe that's too blunt, but in a way, yes, it does look like we're here but you're just waiting for us to leave", Aria contributed again, while Emily's eyes opened wide in surprise. "But it's all right." She tried to lessen the impact. "We get it, the deed is done. It's fine. We're happy. Let's keep talking about Holden. Or about Ezra."

"No, but we're not waiting for you to leave", Emily unsuccessfully tried.

Spencer took a deep sigh. She was keeping her cool, although she could feel again the wave of heat rushing up from her cleavage to her cheeks (damn the summer and all its summer clothes!), but she had to compensate for Emily's high pitched voice and apparent sense of moral scandal.

"That's totally impossible anyway", she cleared. "We didn't have sex five minutes ago, and we're not having sex in five minutes either because I have to get going really quick."

Hanna smiled at Spencer's cool attitude and reddened face. "So that's why you're having mind-sex now."

"We have mind-sex all the time, whatever that is", Spencer deadpanned. "Maybe you're referring to the fact that it's mind-blowing sex, but you couldn't possibly know that."

"Spencer!", Emily called to shut Spencer's mouth up. Then she took a deep breath too and lowered her voice. "You're leaving now? I didn't know that."

"I told you yesterday", Spencer said. "I'm being forced to visit Melissa and her big, big belly in Philly. She's too heavy to move her ass down here."

"Right". Spencer had indeed told her, but she seemed to have forgotten about it and was convinced the visit to Philly would happen tomorrow. "I thought it was tomorrow."

"They changed it to today", Spencer clarified. "I told you."

"I forgot", Emily said in a low tone.

They suddenly realized they'd excluded Hanna and Aria again, if not for mind-sex. Or maybe it was actually for mind-sex, since Emily did indeed have that idea in mind for the late afternoon. They'd been making the most of every moment they could find that lasted long enough to actually give it a try; it wasn't easy, but it was, after all, possible.

"When will you be back?", Emily asked anyway.

"Tonight", Spencer said. "I have to get up really early tomorrow."

Right, she had to go pick up the trash in the streets like every morning. A had released the bloody hockey stick before the hearing, but there was no sign of a corpse, which had made the girls realize Dr. Sullivan was most probably  _not_  dead. But she was still out of sight, and the judge had decided to send a moral warning signal to all the lying girls of Rosewood by convicting Spencer to pick up trash for a whole month basing on the evidence that she was surely hiding something far worse and more outrageous, even if there was no actual proof of a real crime being committed. The blood,  _per se_ , did not prove anything; so Ms. Hastings had managed to reduce the damages only to that garbage-pick-up outcome.

"Sorry, Em, no mind-blowing sex tonight."

Emily glared at Hanna and, at the same time, finally blushed.

Aria, who was idly following the conversation now that she was happier with her life again, masterly dived in and asked Spencer to give her a ride before she left for Philadelphia. She wanted to buy a tie for Mr. Fitz and needed to do it without leaving traces, so her idea was to have Spencer buy it for her. And Spencer, obviously, agreed to it. Since Spencer was already in a hurry, they decided to leave immediately.

Confronted with what was now a true longing, penetrating gaze by Emily, Spencer bent down under the tree and stared back at her, ignoring the world around them.

"I'll call you as soon as I get back."

"Do you wanna go to the pool tomorrow?", Emily offered. "I can pick you up."

She'd pick her up at the community service department at the city hall, but that part was left unsaid. Spencer nodded and they discreetly kissed. After a minute, Spencer left with Aria while Emily and Hanna longingly gazed at them.

"Another lonely day for us", Hanna dramatically said, but Emily didn't even look at her. "Hey, aren't you gonna forgive me for that?"

"It's not gonna be that easy, no", Emily harshly responded. But at the same time, she felt she needed to talk to someone. To Hanna, actually. Not about the mind-blowing sex, that was her own business, but about other things she had in mind. "Do you think she's all right?"

"Who?" Hanna stared into the hazy distance towards where Emily was looking. "Spencer?"

Emily nodded, still looking into the infinite absence of the park and the crowd populating it.

"Sure", Hanna said convincingly. "She's doing great. Even with the whole garbage thing, but I've never seen her better, Em." She took a moment to think. "I still don't get what that judge said."

Emily finally turned her head to look at Hanna. "Me either", she admitted. They didn't understand why Spencer had to do community service if there was no real evidence of a crime. "But that's what I mean. Do you think she's safe there?"

"Why? Are you worried about her?"

Emily uncomfortably moved and repositioned under the tree, to lean her back against the trunk. "A little. She's there all alone with a lot of people who're real criminals. Like, people who've actually committed crimes."

"It's Spencer, Em. She kicks ass. She probably minds her own business while she's thinking about how she'll include this little adventure in her college application."

Emily gave a tiny, knowing smile. "Yeah, but she's also good at pissing people off", she explained her worries. "She kicks ass at school or in the country club, but…"

"Have you forgotten Ian?", Hanna reminded Emily.

"Well, that's exactly my point. He almost managed to kill her."

"Em, she's being watched constantly." Hanna inspected Emily's face. "She's probably safer than we are here."

Emily gave a somber look.

"Which reminds me we should still do something about A. Especially you two."

"I know."

"He/she/it almost got you with one single text and they're gonna try again."

"I know."

Emily had already been thinking about A too. There had been very few texts ever since the hearing finally happened. A had been bluffing – partially, at least – but was probably preparing for the next round while enjoying Spencer in an orange suit.

"As for the other thing, I wouldn't worry about it", Hanna summed up. "I mean, you're the one who sees her naked all the time. Have you seen any bruises or anything?"

Emily denied with her head. "No."

"Then she's fine. She's not getting into stupid fights with psychotical girls."

"Psychotic."

"Whatever", Hanna shrugged, "and stop channeling Spencer, it's getting weird _and_ annoying."

Emily sighed, back to the point of concern. "But she never talks about it. It's like she doesn't even mention it, like it's not there. And she's always so talkative."

"Well, you can't really blame her. She's there for a month, picking up things other people threw away, dressed  _in orange_ , and she  _is_  a Hastings. It must hurt a little."

"Do you think that's it?", Emily asked a little anxiously. "Because she usually talks to me about everything."

"Sure it is." Hanna patted her shoulder sympathetically. "And it's just two more weeks, right?"

"One and a half." Emily did offer a smile now. "I actually needed your help for another thing, but I haven't really forgiven you yet."

"Jesus, Em, Spencer used to be the one to tease, but you're getting really easy when it comes to this."

"You just don't know when you're crossing a line."

"I do know. But, hey, it needed to be crossed already. Someone had to say it aloud so we could all move on."

Emily took a deep, patient breath.

"So tell me. What did you need my help for?", Hanna excitedly asked. She always got kind of enthusiastic when her advice was needed. "Tricks you need to spice things up? Although for the way it looks they're already pretty spiced up."

Emilly rolled her eyes in exhaustion. "You'll never know where to stop."

"Nope."

"It's Spencer's birthday on Friday. And I don't have anything for her yet." Hanna gaped at Emily's confession. "I know, I  _am_  awful. But I just don't know what to get."

"You haven't got her anything yet? Emily! You've had the whole summer!"

"I  _know_! But first it was Texas", Emily explained, "and then it was A, and the hearing, and the conviction, and I was always so worried I totally forgot about it. And then, when I realized it was about time, I just started to analyze every possibility and I never made a decision."

"But there are a lot of things you can get her."

"But I don't want to get her  _a thing_ ", Emily tried to clear her mind. She'd been straining her brain so much that she needed another person to make her see clearer. "It'd be too easy to just  _buy_  something. She's always giving me these really meaningful little things, and I don't really wanna  _buy_  a thing for her, you know, because she can already buy most of the things she wants." She took a pause to complete her argument. "Like, maybe if I could buy a ticket to Paris or an apartment in New York, that'd be special enough, but…"

Hanna laughed at Emily's words. "Wow, you're really gonna have to work hard during the next years if you wanna offer that."

"That's what I'm saying", Emily continued in anguish. "It can't be something that you can just buy. It has to have a meaning."

Hanna entered into deep-in-thought mode, trying to grasp an idea of a thing which wouldn't be a thing, which would have meaning and which Spencer could not buy with money.

"Striptease for her", she blurted out, with a mischievous smile, "you know, to sexy music. No, no, to weird music. Stuff she likes. Classical music stuff. A symphony." She stopped to kind of applaud herself, an air of sunny, wicked satisfaction taking over her facial expression. "That's meaningful. And she'll appreciate it after sex."

Emily sent Hanna a dirty look. "Is this how you're gonna help me?", she scolded her. "I'm sorry to say, Han, but not everything comes down to sex."

"I'm not so sure about you two anymore", Hanna teased, "I mean, lately, whoa, it seems pretty intense in that mind-blowing department."

Emily turned her whole body towards Hanna, in flaming, killer eyes.

"You can't just judge by some looks you're saying we're giving each other."

"There's nothing wrong with it, Em", Hanna insisted, trying to look serious but sounding light-hearted. "Don't even try to make me believe you're not enjoying it. We've all gone through that stage in a relationship. You know, the stage where sex is more important than love."

"Says the person who's only been in  _one_  relationship."

"Two."

"One with sex."

Hanna actually had to agree to that one. But they were even anyway.

"Whatever. In your case, it's okay if it's like that." She decided to push it some more, to get back at Emily for referring to her sexless relationship with Sean. "I already went through that phase with Caleb. It's like you don't really love the person, just the body."

"That is  _not_  the case with us", Emily raised her voice. "Sex isn't more important than love."

Hanna finally let out a giggle. "Chill, Emily! There's nothing wrong with it."

"It is not like you're saying! I'm actually in love with her. It's not only about… her body."

God, she hated it when she blushed intensely like she was blushing now. It made her feel like she was trying to cover up the truth. But she wasn't! Spencer's body was less important than Spencer's soul. Well, maybe not less important, as of now; it was as important as her soul. Body and soul belonged to the same person, to Spencer, so they were the same thing. Spencer was both her body and her soul. Or, better said, Spencer was both her soul and her body. Soul came first, right? Maybe not biologically, though. She wasn't sure about that cell-forming evolutionary stuff. But, in any case, they both belonged to Emily now, so there was nothing wrong with it. She owned Spencer's soul and body in a very, very spiritual way, but also in a carnal sense.

"How can you even say that?", she added, unpleased with her own inner argument.

Hanna burst out in a cascading laughter. "Oh, man, it's suddenly so easy with you."

"Will you stop it already?"

"But why do you get so mad? You're worse than Spencer with the death stares."

"I don't want people thinking this is only about sex, cause it's not."

Hanna laughed softly now, but finally decided to stop the tease.

"Don't you think I know that? I'm your friend. I know you love her, for god's sake, Em. That's pretty obvious to everybody."

"Yeah, I know, I just…" Emily realized she'd gotten stupidly trapped in Hanna's tease. But with all the new experiences she was going through, she was suddenly afraid of people misinterpreting her actions and her feelings somehow. Not to mention her seemingly true porny glances. "I don't want people getting the wrong idea."

"I'm not getting any wrong idea. And anyway, what do you care about other people? You're in love, you have sex, whatever. It's no big deal." Hanna calmed Emily's mood down. But then she thought about Emily's overreaction. "Maybe you're just too afraid of this."

"Afraid of what? Of sex?"

"I don't know. Afraid of digging too deep down into it, you know? Like, of becoming too obsessed with it."

"So now you're saying I'm obsessed with sex."

Emily's eyes turned fiery again.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying maybe you're afraid of getting too involved in, you know, your mind-blowing love-and-sex thing with Spencer."

Emily's face went blank while she tried to grasp the meaning of Hanna's words.

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm not afraid of anything that can happen between Spencer and me."

Hanna tilted her head a little while she thought about what she really meant. "But you've known each other for so long", she thought aloud, "sometimes it must be weird and too easy at the same time."

When Hanna actually got to think profound thoughts, she could really touch bone. That always surprised and scared Emily, especially now that it was sort of touching  _her_ bone. It was true that, sometimes, it felt both weird and too easy. It felt weird because it felt too easy to not really need time to get to know the other person, her fears, her limits, her little manias; to not be able to keep yours from them, either. That made it more intense, but on the other hand, yes, it was weird sometimes too because, in a way, they were still strangers to a whole part of their relationship that was only now beginning. Was that what Hanna meant? And why was Hanna opening up  _that_  part of her soul instead of helping her choose a gift?

"I…" Emily ran out of words. "But I'm not afraid of it. I like it."

She did like it. That was what made it special and unique. That was why she needed to find a special, unique, meaningful gift.

"Cool." Hanna shrugged her shoulders and smiled a wide, honest smile. "So what are we getting her?"

She leaned forward towards Emily, in a conspiratorial move, as if Spencer could hear them decide on her birthday present, and Emily offered her a sideways hesitant, scornful look. However, she decided to cooperate to actually sort out the birthday gift, which was, right now, the real urgency in her life. Talk about how easy it was to know the other person's interests and needs. She knew Spencer perfectly, but she had absolutely  _no_  idea about what to get her. There were only two more days left to decide, and she'd considered thousands of things, from romantic dinners to visits to museums to old, wrinkled books to midnight concerts for which they'd need special permission from parents, to summer clothes and cheap ornaments and corny letters and winter jackets and new, useless dorky glasses. Nothing satisfied her. Everything seemed lame, corny, shallow, or simply just not good enough. Not good enough.

"Something meaningful."

That was their focus. Brainstorming with Hanna was always an interesting experience, but she was hoping it'd be helpful.

"Okay, let's see", Hanna started. "Meaning."

Emily decided to offer some of her thoughts to start off.

"I thought about giving her something that's truly mine. But, you know, not a t-shirt or a necklace or…"

"Panties."

Somehow Emily managed to send the most menacing glance her dark brown eyes had ever glowed in Hanna's direction.

"Sorry, sorry", Hanna laughed, covering her mouth in choked giggles. "Uhm… Your baby blanket? Do you still keep that?"

"My baby blanket?"

"Yeah, the one you used when you were a baby. That's a pretty meaningful thing, and it's totally not sex-related", she added. "And it's yours since you started being you, right? You can't get more intimate and personal than that."

Emily knew it wasn't going to happen, because it was maybe  _too_  non-sexual, but still she was surprised by Hanna's line of thought.

"I… But it's not romantic."

"You said meaningful, not romantic. It's the place where you used to pee when you were little, so I think it means a lot."

Another menacing look followed, albeit not too powerful.

"It has to be meaningful  _and_  romantic."

Hanna started to think again, her slight frown making her fair skin wrinkle a little.

"I don't know! Just give her a nice necklace! Or sunglasses! Or a hat! One of those that..."

"I don't have anything that is so personal to me."

"Let's change the approach."

"No." Emily stared at her questioningly. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know. Just cook for her, or study an exam." Her face suddenly lit up. "Oh, that's actually a good idea. She'd love that. Just let her take you a test where you have to prove you actually listen to her when she talks about stuff."

Emily frowned at her, but actually smiled at the idea. Spencer would find that amusing and flattering, for sure.

"It'd be way too difficult to pass that exam, Hanna."

"That's why it'd be so meaningful."

Hanna had a point. But – no, as much as she enjoyed the nerdy part of Spencer's personality, she still needed something even  _more_  meaningful. Besides, she'd never pass that exam. It covered too many subjects, from A to Ancient and Modern and Contemporary History to Political Sciences to Literature (in various languages), movies (in various languages and from different time periods), biology, chemistry, and who knows what. It was impossible. And not meaningful enough, yet.

Emily sighed, starting to feel defeated. What was she going to get? Why was it so difficult? Was Hanna right, were her expectations too high?

She just wanted  _a thing_  that would mean everything they were before and now; that would sum up everything about their souls and bodies, the past and the present and maybe the future too. All right, so maybe her expectations were too high. But she wasn't going to get a stupid book or a stupid piece of clothing or a stupid necklace or a stupid concert or a stupid dinner that might be right for another occasion, but not for this one. They'd been through really hard times lately, but at the same time they had experienced many good changes too, so she really wanted to make it special. Especially after her epic fail three weeks ago. Perhaps she'd have to go for that baby blanket which she didn't even know if her mother still kept… And there was no time to ship it to Rosewood from Texas anyway, in case her mother still had it. A baby blanket which she couldn't even remember using, but which was hers since she was herself, right? She did need something like that, something that was truly hers, that meant something for her, and it'd be so great and perfect if she could actually have a  _memory_  of it as well. Suddenly she remembered something else and her mouth opened in realization and awe. It was… How was it called? An epiphany, and she struggled not to let the image leave, to make it stay, to force it to stay and open up its secret, its inside to her.

"What?", Hanna asked excitedly, a twinkle in her eye. "The exam? The striptease? The baby blanket?"

"No."

" _What_  then?"

"I can't tell you now." Emily smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling too, almost as if she'd drunk too much again, but out of happiness. "I have to check if I still have it here."

She stood up in a single effortless move, energized, thinking it was actually a good thing Spencer wasn't here today, so she'd have time to finally get down to this plan instead of thinking about their next sexual encounter.

Hanna looked up at her curiously from the ground.

"Where are you going?"

"To your place. I need to open some of the boxes I kept in your basement from my house."

She needed to find the secret and crack it open. Still vague and indefinite, it was slowly breaking through her mind like a stony, rocky memory gaining incandescence with every new effort she made to keep it there.

"You can't leave me here."

Emily was already setting herself in motion when she stopped to stare at Hanna.

"I thought you were meeting Mona in a while."

"I am, in two hours. What am I gonna do here for  _two_  hours?"

She approached Hanna and offered her a hand to help her stand.

"Come with me", she said, while Hanna firmly grabbed her hand. "You can help me look for it  _if_  you don't spill a thing to anyone about it."

While stretching her legs and wiping off some straws of grass and gravel from her butt, Hanna narrowed her luminous blue eyes at her.

"I won't tell."

Emily smiled like the dazzling, lazy sun of August while they walked away from the sheltering tree.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "I Remember", song by Damien Rice.


	13. The Stars Align

They both climbed the metallic stairs up to the roof.

Emily stepped into the concrete ground first, as she was leading the way. She left the backpack on the floor and helped Spencer take the final steps. For all of Spencer's courage, she was sort of wide-eyed and extremely cautious to climb a spiral metallic ladder up to Hanna's roof. She said she sometimes suffered from vertigo, but still she'd insisted on carrying the backpack herself. Emily had had to stop her with her own hands, assuring no one was going to touch the backpack until the right, adequate moment. She was sure Spencer just wanted to feel up the backpack, searching for her birthday present, and Emily wasn't going to let her know anything until the right moment came; or better said, until all the right moments came. There was a whole set of moments prepared for the night. And the night was collaborating with her so far, because it was a limpid, dark summer night on the roof. There were no clouds, no smokes. There were no signs of people, cars or other buildings. There was no real sign of human life around except for them, although both Hanna and her mom were just some feet away. The whole world was moving fast beneath them on a Friday night, but you couldn't really see it or even imagine it from up there, on the roof. So, even though the roof of a house didn't look like the most romantic place to spend an evening, you could never underestimate the possibilities of a solitary place that brought you both higher and closer, without actually having to travel far into the woods or out of town - to Paris or New York.

Spencer looked around in wonder, contemplating the place. Not only was she surprised by Emily's selection of a location, it was also surprising that it hadn't actually been decorated. She was expecting candles and balloons and a steak, or something of the sort. This was certainly going to be interesting. But Emily simply crouched down to open the backpack and took a thin blanket out, which she laid down on the ground.

"A blanket?", Spencer asked, her smile immediately twisted. "On Hanna's roof?"

Emily sent her a smile of her own. "You're wrong, and it's not gonna happen here."

Spencer chuckled softly. "I know. Even the new you would find that too outrageous."

The point was:  _where_  would it happen? And  _what_  were they doing here? And  _when_  was she going to receive her present?

The blanket was smoothed out on the ground with as much care and dedication as Emily usually deployed in all aspects of life.

"There you go. Lie down."

Another crooked smile followed, this time a little hesitant, though.

"Wow, orders. You're starting to make me wonder about this."

"I think you've been wondering about this for a while now."

"You got me", Spencer confirmed, while she bent down and sat on the blanket. "You're not lying down next to me?"

"In a second", Emily smirked.

She covered the backpack with her body, all leery and suspicious, while she started getting things out. A couple of sandwiches she'd prepared in case Spencer got hungry and probably grumpy. Binoculars that Hanna had borrowed from Lucas at Emily's request. And, very importantly, her cheat sheet. That was what she needed right now; the rest would come later.

Spencer caught a brief glimpse of every item that Emily had laid down on the ground, next to the blanket where she was already sitting, and immediately started calculating different scenarios that somehow didn't add up together.

"What the hell is that?"

Emily finally sat by her side on the blanket and offered her one of the sandwiches. "Food. So you don't enter into killer mood."

Spencer laughed at that. "I'm not hungry yet, but I thought you'd be making me dinner."

That was the part of the plan that had failed. Emily hadn't really had time to cook, and wasn't a very gifted chef anyway, so she'd bought a nice lunch for Spencer during the day, and then had stuffed her with some snacks while they were hanging out with Hanna and Aria, waiting for the night to arrive, and then had decided to prepare the sandwiches for the moment when Spencer would get hungry. She could get rather moody when she ran out of energy and food was unreachable. But – Emily knew the dinner part might be a let-down, and she prayed for the plan to actually work so Spencer wouldn't really think about it.

"We won't eat them yet. It's nothing really."

Emily shrugged it off, basically trying to play it down, and Spencer just stared at her in complete amusement and expectation.

"So?", she asked, leaning back while supporting her body on her palms. "Where's my present?"

"Anxious much?"

"Much. You already know that."

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait a little", Emily advised, suddenly a little nervous about the plan. She'd finally gone for a combination of ideas she'd gotten out of her brainstorming with Hanna, and she hoped both progression and timing were as right as they were in her head. "I told you to lie down."

Spencer rolled her eyes. "Why? We're not having sex, so I don't need to…" Then she caught another glimpse of the binoculars. "Oh. Stargazing. That's what we're doing."

She wondered how she hadn't realized earlier. A roof, the starry night, no decorations, and binoculars. They all were pretty obvious clues as to what they were going to do.

"You're always so clever", Emily mockingly admired, "you just kill me with your bright, speedy brain."

"Is that what you're running here on the roof? A stargazing session?"

She wasn't much of a stargazing person. In truth, she did enjoy looking around during nice summer nights like this one and all that, but never actually experienced any curiosity to spend a lot of time looking into the sky. She'd rather be making out under the stars than wasting time looking at them, as crude as it may sound. But she wasn't going to ruin Emily's preparations, so she guessed she'd have to play along. And, anyway, she was pretty sure the stargazing would end up in a kissing session at some point, as the law of birthdays demanded.

"Are you gonna question the gift before I actually have time to execute it?"

Spencer cocked an eyebrow in realization. "Hmmm, so it's a do, not a give." She grinned in girlish curiosity. "I'm actually pretty interested in whatever you're gonna  _execute_  to celebrate me."

"Good", Emily smiled back, turning again towards the backpack because she'd forgotten to get out the cushion. "Now lie down, please", she asked again, once she'd placed it where their heads would rest.

Spencer complied this time, and Emily mimicked the movement. They both lied down on the blanket, their heads and their hands touching. An instant of silence and contemplation of the sky passed before Spencer moved a little to look at Emily, expectant and ready to move on to the next step. Emily knew this was the starting shot.

"You pretty much know everything, right?", Emily said, returning Spencer's penetrating gaze. "You know all sorts of things."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do."

Spencer rolled on her side to get a direct vision of Emily's face. "I do know you're making me  _very_  anxious about this."

"Don't interrupt me, please", Emily commanded, but her eyes were warm and sparkly even in the stark dark silence of the night. "So I was saying… you know almost everything there's to know about the world."

"I think you're magnifying my greatness a little right now."

"Nah", Emily denied. "I think I'm being totally fair."

"Is that what you're gonna  _execute_?", Spencer tried another approach. "You're gonna praise me and my knowledge of all things in the universe?"

Emily couldn't help smiling wide at that. "Yeah, sort of", she accepted. "So I was thinking about the perfect thing… you know, to give to the perfect person." She took a pause to check Spencer's eye rolling and laughed again. "And I actually had to ask Hanna to give me some ideas."

Spencer seemed pretty taken aback by the mention of Hanna's name. "Hanna? I'm surprised we're not in a strip-club now, or getting drunk under the disco lights."

"Yeah, or getting naked in your lake house."

"I'd actually enjoy that. You should listen to her."

"I did listen to her."

Another suspenseful silence followed, while Spencer ran different images in her head, trying to make sense of Emily's cryptic words. Her lake house wasn't available tonight, mainly because she still had to do community service on Saturday morning. So it couldn't be that. Damn that freaking judge and that freaking orange suit.

"Don't worry, I won't keep you wondering much longer", Emily smiled again, moving a little closer for a brief brush of the lips. She was enjoying the suspense and the surprise it caused on Spencer, but didn't want to stretch it forever. "So… basically… I always hear you talk about millions of different things, right? And I actually listen to you, which, believe me, can be pretty hard sometimes."

"Thanks", Spencer said, more amused at the way Emily was conducting the explanation than at its conclusion itself. "I guess I'm lucky you're paying attention to all those tons of information."

"You're very welcome. So… Let me get to the point. I was thinking about everything you say, and I realized you never talk about the sky and the stars and that sort of thing." She took another pause to check Spencer's poker face. "And I know that's because you're not very interested in it. Like, you're actually more interested in everything that happens down here, right?"

"Kind of", Spencer hesitantly admitted. "I do know a couple of things about, you know, the usual stuff." Emily remained silent, so she decided to follow the cue. "You know, the Big Bang theory, and I don't mean the TV show. And black holes, and the northern star and that sort of stuff", she summed up.

Black holes. A shiver of non-metaphorical excitement walked up and down her spine.

"Yeah, that's what I thought", Emily agreed. "I'm interested here in the northern star. And in other constellations of stars. You don't know about that, right?"

"Just that they're up there", Spencer asserted.

So this definitely was about stargazing.

"Right, they're up there", Emily continued. "So I just want you to look at them  _a little_  while I tell you about them. Cause you don't know about this, so now it's become  _my_ thing."

"Your thing", Spencer responded in a mock tone. "I didn't know the stars were your thing. I thought you had other things, like swimming, and sleuthing, and, you know,  _other_ things."

She tried to give it as much double meaning as she could, and she succeeded, because she could see the spark in the eye and the slight tremble of the lip. But Emily acted as if she hadn't heard it, although she  _had_  clearly heard. Oh well, Emily was hard to crack when she was really focused on something, and it was so good to see her  _that_  focused on her birthday she could completely rejoice in it.

"The stars are also my thing now", Emily affirmed, unmoved. "That's why I'm gonna teach you a lesson. For your birthday."

"I'm gonna be taught a lesson for my birthday?"

"You're in serious need of people teaching you lessons."

"I think that's what our teachers are gonna do when we start school again."

"Nah, that's not good enough. I'd rather do it myself."

They looked into each other's eyes now, and Emily realized she had to start with her lesson already or else they'd be making out in a second and her plan would be ruined. So she made an enormous effort to direct her eyes at the sky again.

"Look", Emily said. "You know that one, right?"

She pointed at a bright, luminous light that resembled a distant streetlamp in the sky or a plane crossing the night.

"It's a planet."

"Right. So it's not a star. It's Venus. And that over there is Mars, another planet."

"Yeah."

"And that one's the northern star." She moved her head to check if Spencer was looking at it. She was, luckily. "People think it's the brightest star in the sky, but it's not. It's just a fixed spot there, and that's why people use it as a guide, because it points to the north."

"Right. The pole star."

"Exactly, Polaris", Emily continued, while Spencer sent her a sideways glance. It was actually hot to listen to Emily and to watch her all focused and authoritarian. "It belongs to the Ursa Minor, or the Little Bear. Shit, it's really difficult to remember those names in Latin."

Her hand reached for her cheat sheet while Spencer burst out in laughter.

"Are you telling me you're actually gonna cheat?", Spencer exclaimed, trying to get a hold of the paper. She couldn't, but there was a distinctive sight of words and drawings that she could catch, although Emily tried to hide it from her. "Did you even draw the stars there?"

"Of course, this shit is crazy difficult", Emily laughed too. "I had only one night to come up and study."

"You actually came to the roof to study?", Spencer asked. "This gives a whole new meaning to the term all-nighter."

"I hope you appreciate it when I'm done."

"I'm appreciating it already." She stared, once more, in wonder at Emily, who was herself peeking at the paper. "Are you trying to win a cuteness contest? Because I must say you already won that one months ago."

"I know I won that one", Emily smirked. "But it's nice to know I can win it all over again."

This was already too much, and enough, and Emily had already won every cuteness contest that might be held on earth, so Spencer suddenly decided to make a move and stop the stargazing. They were so close it only took her a millisecond to be on top of Emily.

"You're a winner", Spencer asserted. "You won the beauty queen contest too. You win every contest."

She leaned down to kiss Emily, and Emily did kiss her back, unable to put it out. But she immediately pulled away and tried to hold back.

"Let me finish this", Emily begged more than asked. "Kisses will come after I've done my speech and the rest of it."

"What's the rest of it?"

"You'll see."

"You're just trying to kill me here. That's mean of you on my birthday."

"That's because I'm a mean person."

And Emily smiled so sweetly, refuting every evidence about her meanness and her cruelty, that Spencer had no other choice than to go back to her position on the blanket, next to her.

"So", Emily started, "I got lost again."

"The Little Bear thing."

"Oh, right. Thanks. So… there's the Little Bear and the Great Bear, Ursa Major. And they're pretty well known so I won't bore you with that." She tried to make it faster, or Spencer would want to eat that sandwich and the plan would be a disaster. "Now… did you actually know there's a thing called The Summer Triangle?"

"I hope it's not a place where planes and ships disappear", Spencer sarcastically replied. "Although I might take you there with me if that's the case."

"No, it's not that", Emily said very seriously. "It's a line where you can see the three brightest stars during the summer. Which are…" She took another glance at the crumpled paper. "Vega, Alaris and Deneb."

Spencer didn't say anything, so Emily assumed (and hoped) she was just listening.

"Vega's the brightest star in the Lyra constellation, over there." She pointed at it in the sky, a bright luminous white light in the starry night. "Then, Altair belongs to the Aquila one, which means eagle, by the way." Again, she pointed at another star southwards, not so luminous as the other one, but still notorious in the clear night. "And finally Deneb is a giant, super bright star that belongs to Cygnus. Jesus, these names are hard."

She heard Spencer's soft chuckle again. At least she was having fun  _out_  of her, if not of the stargazing.

"You see the triangle?", she tried to make sure anyway. "You can see it without the binoculars on a night like this."

With her finger, she drew the lines in the sky, afraid Spencer wasn't really paying attention to her anymore.

"Do you see it or not?"

"Yeah, although it's a little confusing."

"Here, look at this." She allowed her to see the drawing in the cheat sheet, and Spencer's face lit up with curiosity. She seemed to be more interested in that than in the actual stars. "See?"

Spencer looked at the sky again and nodded, finally concentrating on the matter at hand.

"But you're not any of them", Emily said, now that she'd gotten her attention.

Spencer turned to look at her, delightful confusion painted all over her face.

"What do you mean?"

"That you're not any of them", Emily repeated. "You can't be Vega, because I've been thinking about it all night, and it's the brightest one, but it's kind of cold and bluish". She handed her the binoculars, enjoying her confusion. "See the color?"

Spencer nodded again, holding the binoculars and directing them to the star.

"I gave it a lot of thought", Emily continued, "but you can't be Altair either. I mean, it's also really bright, and it belongs to an eagle, which is kinda right for you, but I'm not convinced."

Spencer left the binoculars by her side, between her body and Emily's, and turned to look at her. She didn't seem confused anymore. The look on her face was more of warmth and amusement.

"You're not sure about me being an eagle or about me being bright?"

"I thought about others too", Emily replied, still not answering. "Antares is over there." She pointed at the opposite direction in the sky, and gave the binoculars to Spencer again. "It means Rival of Mars, because it's red like Mars. You're more of a red than a blue, right?"

Spencer held the binoculars again and looked into the sky zone Emily had pointed at.

"I am?" She held her breath while she contemplated the reddish radiating light that definitely distinguished that star from the ones in The Summer Triangle. "That one's kinda cool."

"It is, but it belongs to the Scorpius constellation. And you're definitely not a scorpion."

"I can be if I have to." Spencer left the binoculars by her side again. "As you know."

"But you're not one for real, you just try to look like one from time to time", Emily asserted, thoughtful and serious. "So, after a lot of consideration, this is the reason I brought you up here. To show you where you're in the sky."

Spencer smiled and searched for Emily's hand beyond the binoculars.

"Are you trying to win the corniest girl contest too?"

"I'm just teaching you a lesson." Emily flashed one of her secretive, self-satisfied smiles while she held Spencer's hand too. "See that other constellation I showed you? With the weird name, Cygnus."

"It means swan."

"You do know everything."

"So I'm that star? The one you mentioned before?"

"Nope. You're not that one either."

Spencer feigned shock, but did look a little confused. "So I'm not any of the brightest ones? Are you trying to say I'm not bright enough?"

Emily pointed now at a fainter, more tenuous star south of the brightest one in the constellation.

"You'll need the binoculars for this one", she said, handing them to Spencer again. "That one's Albireo. God, these names, they're killing me. It's the head of the swan."

"I actually can't see any kind of swan at all."

"Yeah, me either. People have a lot of imagination", Emily admitted. "But the important thing is that Albireo, do you see it?" Spencer didn't answer, but nodded after a couple of seconds. "It's actually  _two_  stars, but they shine as if they were one."

Spencer nodded again, her voice now a little excited. "Yeah, I see them."

"You see the bigger one is kind of reddish."

"It's more orange than red."

"Right. And the little one is bluish, and when you see them from here, you get this amazing contrasting color, which is kind of a warm, super hot amberish color but with a blue ray that kind of shines from behind, right?"

She'd spent last night looking at it, so she perfectly knew how it shone.

Spencer put the binoculars down and rolled again to her side, already losing interest in the stars. However, her eyes were shining, and Emily had her full, devoted attention now.

"And that's why that star's me? Because it's wearing orange?"

Emily hadn't really foreseen that possibility, so she frowned at the comment.

"No. It's you because it's warm, sometimes even kind of abrasive and burning too, like the red ones. But it also kind of gives away the bluish ray, and they're merged together, the same way you're both your heart and your brain."

She sensed Spencer swallow and breathe deeply, but since she didn't utter a word, Emily decided to continue explaining why Spencer was the binary star.

"And it's also you because it's the swan head, although I can't really see a swan either." Spencer smiled at this, and Emily returned the smile, but kept talking. "It might not be the brightest one up there, but it's the most spectacular of all and it's also surrounded by other stars. We're keeping both of you company."

Spencer approached her slowly until they were really close, a smile on her lips.

"But it's a double star, so you could be the other one", she said in her usual husky voice. "I don't mind being the little one."

"You're already that one and also the orange one. You're both", Emily said very seriously, holding Spencer's hand and taking it to her lips. "But I'm around, in the same constellation. Let me."

She took the binoculars to look at the binary star herself.

"Hmmm, I can't really see me, I'll probably need a telescope", Emily laughed, "but I'm there for sure."

A hand took the binoculars away. Spencer was smiling crookedly at her, so Emily closed the distance and properly kissed the birthday girl now.

"You get it?", she asked when they separated.

"I get it", Spencer said. "I'm a double star and I rock the world. And you're sexy when you study with me in mind."

The mere fact that Emily had set herself to study this during the night was a definite turn-on for Spencer; it was also the best way to make her heart flutter and her knees weaken. And the worst, or the best part, was that Emily probably knew about it and had done it precisely with that thought in mind. She was always so clever when it came to finding out her weaknesses.

"I was afraid you were gonna kill me for a while."

"I'm happy I didn't."

"So you're admitting to it."

Actually, Spencer would just admit to wanting to jump on her to shut her mouth up. She did try, but it didn't work. She was happy she'd let Emily talk to the end. It was a very cute present; it was sweet and subtle the way Emily always was about everything.

She kissed her again in gratefulness, and Emily received and activated the kiss with an open heart. But when Emily felt the familiar pang in her lower stomach, she stopped the kiss. They couldn't do this on Hanna's roof; Ms. Marin was probably watching TV or having a bath in the room right below them. That was far more outrageous than anything she'd think of doing up until now, as Spencer had said before. At least, during that night they had sex for the first time, she had a good excuse; she was drunk. Well, maybe it wasn't a  _good_  excuse. But it was an excuse for her bold, bad behaviour. Whatever they did tonight, it had to happen away from parents and from populated houses. And, anyway, there were still a few things to sort out. The starry night was not over yet. There were a couple of things she wanted to talk to Spencer about, and the roof was the perfect place, high and lonely and so close to the sky A would never reach them there. Or so she hoped.

"I need to talk to you."

"Now?" Spencer's voice sounded breathy already. "You talked a lot already and it's my turn to do the talking, and by that I mean the kissing."

Emily smiled and brushed away a strand of brown wavy hair that was falling on her own cheek, tickling her face and filling her nostrils with Spencer's slightly lemonish summer perfume. She looked into Spencer's eyes, thinking about the best way to say it.

"Is it so bad that you have to bite your tongue?"

"No", Emily denied. "It's just… I'm just worried that you're not talking to me about… the community service stuff. Is there a reason why you're keeping so quiet about it?"

The question took Spencer by surprise. "No."

Nothing else came out of Spencer's mouth. So there  _was_  a reason.

"No? Is that all?"

Spencer looked down and away, her eyelids a sudden curtain closing down the show. "It's not something I like talking about, that's all."

"And why's that?"

"Do you really need an explanation?"

"I know why you don't like it. I just wonder why you don't say a word to me about it."

"Well, don't wonder", Spencer replied, facing Emily's eyes again. "There's nothing to worry about. I just don't like being there."

Emily stared at her questioningly, and wondered if she should push it further. Probably not.

"It doesn't have anything to do with you, Em", Spencer clarified, guessing where the preoccupation might be coming from. "I'd tell you if there was something to tell. But there's nothing. I just count the hours till I'm out, like literally I count, I do."

Emily believed that. She could imagine Spencer counting down the minutes, the hours and the days inside her head.

"At least you could tell me that, so I wouldn't…" She thought about it, and decided to refrain. It was hard for Spencer. But if there was something else to worry about, she guessed Spencer would tell her. "You know it's only one more week."

She kissed her on the nose, and Spencer smiled, thankful that she actually didn't have to get into details. "Yeah, one more week and I'm done."

They intertwined their fingers.

"We also need to talk about A."

Spencer actually frowned at the mention of A, and as a result Emily's lips pursed, knowing it was maybe too much to ask on Spencer's birthday.

"I know it's not the best moment. But I've been thinking a lot, and we haven't really talked about this ever since you were sent to community service."

"What's there to talk?" Spencer sounded already a little curt. "A's happy I'm serving the community, but I'm happier I'm getting out in some days."

Emily sent a look full of concern. "Yeah, I know that, but it doesn't end here, Spencer."

Spencer looked down again, but then returned Emily's direct gaze. She was right, although Spencer didn't really want to talk about it on her birthday. She was happy. She was a double star in Emily's night sky. For some reason, the night always brought them good things in the end.

"What do you wanna do? Why are you worried?"

Emily rolled over on her back so she could find the words in her head, and Spencer immediately missed her breath and her fresh, clean smell and her close touch.

"I've been thinking about A's next move."

Spencer approached her again. "And?"

"We have a pact. You and I", Emily clarified. "But what happens if A comes up with something we're not prepared to deal with? We have to try to get ahead."

"Since when is that a possibility?", Spencer sarcastically asked, but then rephrased to sound more understanding. "We'll deal with it the way we agreed."

"Will you deal with it if it's about me?"

The question dropped between them as if it weighted tons and tons of stones.

"What do you mean?"

"I already know what I have to do when it happens again", Emily explained. "But if it goes the other way around, if A goes after you with something to hurt me, will you just stick to your side of the pact?"

"You don't think I will? I said I would."

"I know what you said. But we didn't really  _talk_  about the possibilities."

Spencer rolled over on her own back too, and started to think about the possibilities. It was true that, with the hearing and the orange overall, she hadn't really spent time trying to get ahead of anything.

A few minutes passed until she decided to face Emily again, so she moved her legs and positioned herself again on top of her. The enveloping movement surprised Emily, but if they were to talk about this  _now_ , they'd better do it closely, body to body and brain to brain. Star to star.

"The Danby letter. Is that what's worrying you?"

Emily sent what could only be described as a defiant glance. "I think A won't use that."

"Me either."

"There's always a chance, but A did that to keep me here."

"Yeah", Spencer agreed. So what was Emily's concern? "The HGH results."

Emily's face grew suddenly grimmer. That was  _her_  main concern.

"Wren silenced them", Spencer thought aloud. "And A wouldn't use them either, because there'd be a chance your parents would take you away from Rosewood too."

The sole thought gave her the creeps and sent a wave of despair throughout her body.

"But what if A used them against you? Or against us", Emily argued her point. "A didn't want you in jail either. A just wanted us to fight, or else to push us to our limits. So what if A tries to use those on you?"

"What do you mean? If it happens I'll go talk to you like we said."

"Even if that means that they're out?"

If the HGH results went out, Emily would be instantly kicked out of the swim team. And that would only be the  _first_  of every possible consequence. Maybe A would be ready to use them, not exactly as in trying to expel Emily from the game, but as a weapon against their unity.

Spencer shivered. "Yeah." Her voice shivered too in hesitation.

"That's what I mean."

Spencer looked right into Emily's eyes. "You want us to make a decision together? So it doesn't take us by surprise and we know what to do?"

A nod of consent came, but there was something else on Emily's face. A flash, then a flood of some other emotion. Was it determination? Defiance? Arrogance? It was the kind of emotion she didn't show so often, but sometimes it just came through her, like a sudden outburst of a black, fiery substance that emerged from her eyes and her whole corporal disposition.

"You want to do something so it doesn't happen", Spencer murmured, starting to understand the emotion that blazed through Emily's eyes. "What do you wanna do?"

"I wanna make them disappear."

Spencer gaped at Emily's decision in both fear and stress. "That means a whole lot of things, Em. For a start, it means you probably wanna steal them."

"Yeah."

A silence took over the air between them, but Spencer could sense her own ruminations of surprise and irritation. She didn't think it was a wise decision, but her whole body was tensing up to the sound of the argument she could hear inside her head.

"It's too risky."

She was  _still_  doing community service. What if they caught her stealing now?

"You won't come", Emily clarified in a commanding tone. "You have enough legal problems, but I'll take Aria with me."

"You  _won't_ do it", Spencer raised her voice, even more alarmed now. "Both of you are… you don't know how to do that kind of thing."

"Oh, right, I forgot only Spencer Hastings, aka the gangsta star and queen of crime, knows how to get into hospitals to steal stuff."

"Well, but it's true!", Spencer complained. "Last time we got into that freaking hospital we almost got caught and it was me who did everything that had to be done."

Emily sent her a  _very_  resentful look, but the arrogance was still there. It wasn't going away. She'd probably thought it through over and over and over again during the last weeks, since they had that conversation the night she got drunk trying to save Spencer from jail.

"Emily, no. If you get caught, you'll end up like me. Not to mention your parents might still get so mad at you that you'll be out of here for  _nothing_!"

Oh, no, she wasn't going to allow such a stupid intervention. Not in a million years. They would get caught! Aria believed doors were cracked open with magical powers of persuasion, and Emily… Emily just… No, she would never allow her to do that.

They looked at each other in a duel of dense, binary-starred stares.

"I  _won't_  let you", Spencer warned very seriously. "You do not tell me on my birthday that you're gonna get into a place to commit a crime, and you do not do it either, birthday or not."

Emily didn't say anything at first, feeling guilty about the birthday situation. But then she decided to continue her line of thought.

"I already talked to Aria", she said. "She agrees with me."

"What?" Spencer's voice sounded like the high caw of the solitary crow flying the night. "Why are you talking to Aria instead of talking to me about this?"

"I  _am_  talking to you, Spencer."

Emily leaned on her hands to lift her torso and get closer to Spencer's face. She felt too small and encaged with Spencer's dominating figure, and she needed to even out the situation.

"We need to do this", she persistently argued. "We won't get caught, I promise. I'll let you say anything you want and order me around all that you need, but we have to do it."

Her face was so close now that Spencer felt dizzy with the urge to both strangle her and kiss her. But it was always the kiss that took over and won. So, when she was dueling Emily's eyes with her own, while she was still trying to impose, she knew the urge to kiss her would win, because Emily was getting so close to her on purpose, because she just wanted to make her understand why it was important for them, and Spencer could actually  _see_  it and was already understanding it. It was important for them. Emily was right: in case of being confronted with the HGH report, would she have the guts to actually let it out? Was that a strength or a weakness? Was that a selfish act, or an act of love, and what would she do, and  _how_  would she do it? She'd probably do anything to try to keep those reports from going public, except breaking up or hurting Emily on purpose. But was that out of selfishness? She'd tried to save Toby from A. She'd do  _more_  for Emily, she'd even break up if Emily's life was really at stake, she'd do anything; but the HGH results, they meant the swim team, and college, and they meant The Fields, and they meant Out Of Rosewood, and they meant so many things that Emily was trying to convey to her, that yes, she did see it was important, but still she wouldn't let her do the stealing thief act for which she wasn't really prepared. It was too risky. It was too risky and the cost would be too high. And they were too close now and she couldn't really think of an argument because her mouth was too close.

Still she fought back the urge, because there had to be another way to do this.

"There has to be another way. You're not gonna do this."

It was Emily who gave in first to the urge, and they kissed. They kissed slowly but also with too much pressure, with too much need to be a normal kiss, but it was still a kiss, sweet but somewhat stressful, a kiss that mainly said they just didn't really know how to continue the discussion.

Why did she have to do this? No, no, you didn't kiss a person when you were talking about stealing things from hospitals.

Spencer felt her willpower weaken and fade, but her brain still managed some control of the situation. Not even a kiss would shut her down like that and convince her that was the best option. She'd personally threaten Ezra's life if it was necessary, in order to keep Aria from helping Emily carry this decision through. She'd have to think of another way, of another way to get the HGH results without actually committing a crime, or else she'd do it herself, and as soon as the kiss ended she'd start thinking about it.

"I'll talk to Wren", she suddenly blurted out, breathily breaking the kiss.

Emily's expression changed from that of pleasured surprise to that of disgust in a single instant. It showed Spencer that she'd already considered that option.

"No way."

Here they were again: no way, no Wren, stern Emily versus stern Spencer.

"Well, there's no way you're gonna get into that hospital with Aria to steal a document you don't even know where to find, so I'm pretty sure we'll end up talking to Wren."

A flash of anger and not of arrogance shone through Emily's eyes this time.

"He already helped me." Emily made, anyway, an effort to sound reasonable. "I'm not gonna owe him another one."

The reasonable tone didn't fool Spencer, however.

"What do you care about owing him anything if you get the freaking HGH results without getting caught?", Spencer aggressively asked. "You wanna do this? Fine. We do this. We do it to get ahead of A. But we talk to Wren so he's the one who does it."

"There's no we here."

That one punched Spencer hard in the head. She thought she'd even flinched at the sound of the words.

"There's a we everywhere, and I'm the fucking double star of your sky."

Emily actually couldn't help but smile widely at Spencer's aggressive but cute punch line back to her. She had to toughen up a lot in order to win this discussion, but that didn't mean she didn't find Spencer totally adorable even in her most aggressive self.

She decided to shift the tone and offered a peace sign.

"There's a we everywhere and that's why I wanna do this." Spencer's expression relaxed upon hearing her words, although the smile had already done a lot. "And I don't want Wren in the middle of our we."

Spencer's aggressive drive faded out. Now she just sighed.

"What's exactly your problem with Wren? He never did anything to you. I haven't seen him since we're together. And still you totally hate him."

"I don't hate him."

"No, you  _despise_  him. But you're just jealous, and I don't understand the reason."

Emily's expression got serious and grave, but her voice sounded calm when she spoke.

"It's true, I'm jealous", she admitted, and Spencer's heart skipped a beat because this was the first time Emily actually admitted to having that feeling against Wren. "But it's not because of you. I don't trust him, I don't like him, I don't want him near you, and I don't want him helping me anymore."

"Emily, all right, I kissed him", Spencer argued back. "So what? It's not like I'm gonna do it anymore. It's over."

"I know it's over", Emily conceded, and actually hoped for it to be true. "But I just… I don't like him. I don't like his cute boyish looks and his cute boyish hair and his cute boyish British accent whenever they get cute near you."

Spencer burst out in a somewhat nervous laugh when she heard those words. They were so un-Emily, and still they were kind of funny and subtle in a very typical Emily way. So that was why she hated Wren? That was why she was always so defensive about him? And how many more times would they have to talk about this person whom she hadn't even seen in months?

"So that's the problem? That he's cute?"

"That you find him cute, and he knows it." And she knew it too. "And that he can't, obviously he can't resist you. And he won't try."

Spencer sighed again, trying to think of a counterargument. But she had a very good one at hand: love. She was in love. And she had actual limits when it came to kissing people, no matter what the others thought of her. She'd made her mistakes, but that was over. So there were two counterarguments: love, and trust.

"Even if I find him cute, I  _love_  you. I won't risk that. I'll never risk that, you should know that."

Warmth flowed through Emily's body and transferred to her eyes.

"It's not about you", she repeated, her tone much softer now. "If it was another thing, I'd just suck it up. But this is my thing, it's my problem."

Spencer lifted her hand to Emily's neck and softly caressed her with her fingers, touching the pressure points in the back of her neck.

"So it's not only about him being cute and about me kissing him. It's about your pride."

"It's  _my_  problem", Emily painfully tried to explain again. "So… even if he's gonna be involved, I'll be the one to ask him, not you."

Spencer started to feel relieved. Apparently, Emily was slowly considering the Wren option.

"But why do you have to be so stubborn about this?", she pushed further. "It's easier if I ask him."

"It's easier because he'll do it for you, right?" Emily cut off. "But that's not gonna happen. Not when this is about  _me_."

Relief retracted again to its hidden place, and alarm shook Spencer up once more.

"He'll do it for me, but maybe he won't do it for you." She sounded as crude as she could, in order to state her point. "It's his license to practice medicine, Em, he'd be taking a  _huge_  risk."

Spencer, whose fingers were still on Emily's neck, sensed her nerves and tendons tense up too.

"Well, if he won't do it for me, it won't be done. It's non negotiable, Spencer."

Spencer looked away and grunted in disagreement, but finally decided to accept that solution, which was by far much better than the plan to steal the documents on their own.

"Okay", she voiced her agreement in a softer tone. "You do know you'll have to pretend to like him and be nice to him, right?"

"It's not that difficult", Emily sharply answered, "I'll just think about how cute he is."

Spencer rolled her eyes. "Come on, Em."

Emily embraced her by the waist and pulled her closer "Just tell me you won't try to talk to him."

Spencer moved her head, signalling a no. And she was again too close, and too agitated, and she smelled her hair, and she finally kissed Emily again, knowing that was exactly what Emily was expecting. Because they already knew how to dance this dance, and they'd already learned their moves, and they could argue and then kiss like it was nothing. Like it was everything at the same time. These were their dating rules: they talked everything over. They said whatever they had to say, good and bad, alarming or reassuring, on a birthday or on an ordinary day. And then they kissed, and it was even better this way because they always knew who they were and where they stood.

And because they were bright double stars, orange and blue shining in the summer sky.

"Where are we going now?"

That was the question that was forming in Spencer's head, since it was  _still_  her birthday. But Emily feared it because she had no idea where they could go now. Ms. Marin was in the house, and Ms. Hastings was in the other house, and so on. They'd already tried the car, but the car was no good when it came to going further than a make-out session. They both got too tense and worried about getting spied on and caught. But, at the same time, it was painfully disturbing to realize that, no matter how much they'd like to deceive themselves, they wouldn't be able to just stop it if they tried the car again. They'd do it, and they'd get tense and worried again, and it'd be no good again.

"I don't know."

"Let's try the car again?", Spencer asked, and it was her birthday.

Shit. It was still her birthday. And Emily had completely forgotten about  _the_  real birthday present, the one that was really meaningful and significant, because they'd started talking about A and about Wren after the stargazing. How could she be such a disastrous girlfriend? It'd cost her  _a life_  to think of that present and she'd almost forgotten about it!

"Oh my god", she voiced her horror while she checked the time. "You don't have your present."

Thank god it was still before midnight. The plan could still work, even if she'd messed it up a little by initiating a discussion she should have brought up tomorrow.

Spencer looked funny at her. "I thought the star was my present."

"No, that was only the preliminary present", Emily explained, already disentangling herself from Spencer's arms and trying to reach for the backpack. "The real present's here."

She took out a small box, delicately wrapped in the same Scooby-Doo gift paper Spencer had used for the gift she'd given to her some months ago. She'd saved it just to remember it, or for a special occasion, and here the occasion presented itself. From a fake birthday to a real one, from a Scooby-Doo gang member to another one, with love.

"I saved it", she stated, while she gave the box to Spencer with a sheepish expression. "I thought it'd be cool to recycle it for this."

Spencer returned a funny, curious look as she grabbed the box and examined it.

"You're still getting a gift for your birthday, you know", she said, "although I'll have to find another cool paper to wrap it."

"Just open it already", Emily asked anxiously.

Spencer complied, not afraid to rip the paper and to uncover the box beneath. She examined it too, it didn't seem new, but instead of asking she just opened it. Inside there was a simple, fine silver neckband with a small pendant that reproduced the head of Nefertiti. Her fingers touched it and she took it out, observing it in the dark.

"You got me a pendant?", she asked, but then the image of Nefertiti, the ancient Queen of Egypt, hit her violently and she froze. "I remember this. It's yours."

"Yeah."

"Your dad brought it from Egypt. You used to wear it all the time."

Emily smiled. "You remember."

Her dad had given it to her during one of his few leaves, after he'd returned from Iraq. He'd had to visit a base in Egypt and he'd gotten the pendant there, and she'd worn it out. She wouldn't take it off during one whole year, not even when she got in the shower. That was why the silver material was a little worn off, because it wasn't obviously so good. It was probably just a souvenir for tourists and visitors, but she'd never minded that.

"Of course I do", Spencer recollected too. "I always liked it."

"I know you did."

Spencer looked into her eyes, surprised. "And you're giving it to me?"

"I want you to have it. It's nothing really, but…", she opted for an explanation. "It was the thing I liked best of all the things my dad ever brought me. Although I stopped wearing it, I always kept it close. I always liked it because… I don't exactly know why, I guess it was because my dad gave it to me, and because of the woman's head, which is kinda funny."

Spencer laughed, but her eyes shone.

"It's not funny, it's supposed to be one of the most beautiful women in world history." Her eyes shone again, now more brightly. "But you can't give it to me, it's yours. What will your dad say?"

"I already told him. And anyway, it's up to me. It's mine." Emily took a pause and smiled. "Well, it's yours now, if you want it."

Spencer narrowed her eyes at her. "How could I  _not_ want it?"

Emily lowered her own eyes and touched the Nefertiti head, which was pending between Spencer's long fingers.

"I wanted to give you something that was mine", she explained, and her voice sounded strangely weak and nervous. "So, you know, you'd have it and it'd be me. I mean, you already have  _me_ , cause we're dating. But, you know, this is… me, in a different way."

She looked up at Spencer again, terribly displeased both with her explanation and her voice. Maybe she should have bought something, a classic gift. You could never go wrong when you went classic, right? Somehow saying these things made her feel so vulnerable and stupid at the same time, like she was trying to recite a poem, or sing a song, or play an instrument – badly, with true emotion, but still without talent and skill. Why did people need to talk about things? Wasn't it easier to just understand things without talking about them? But she couldn't go back to the silent type, not on Spencer's birthday.

However, apparently her words had been touching, because Spencer did look moved, her eyes kind of teary even in the dark of the night. And she wouldn't speak. That was weird for Spencer. She usually said too much, in case she hadn't said enough. But, right now, she just put the necklace around her neck and struggled to clasp it.

"Will you?"

"Yeah."

Emily's fingers brushed Spencer's coveted neck while she did the clasp up. Their eyes met and again Emily felt weak and happy, but too vulnerable too, when she saw that Spencer had actually understood what she meant.

For two people who had such a way for the easy talk lately, they were both suddenly speechless.

"Thank you", Spencer remembered to say. She swallowed, gaining back her raspy, husky voice. "This is you, so I'll take good care of it, I promise."

She touched again the Nefertiti head, which was pending down her clavicle.

Emily smiled in return, and cleared her throat a little. "I hope it takes good care of you too."

Maybe avoiding bullets and stabs and arrows and other menaces. Maybe dazzling and blinding dangerous strangers and family in-laws, ninja ghosts, preventing them from coming close, preventing some of them from getting _too_ close - closer.

Spencer leaned down a little to press her forehead against Emily's. A double star and a queen of Egypt. How could Emily come up with these things? How did she manage to break her heart once and again like this? She couldn't find more words to say, other than what she'd already said, but she was still thinking about words, other words, more words that'd say she'd never take the pendant off, that she'd wear it almost as a dog collar if necessary, that she'd never been given anything better, because no one else could give her  _that_ , only her, only that one person, when she felt Emily's lips on her mouth. Who needed words when there were lips and tongues? So they kissed, and soon enough they were lying down on the blanket again. And, if they kept going, somehow they were going to violate all the laws well-mannered people had established throughout history in the universe where they were starring. And it wasn't like Spencer even cared about that.

But Emily did - Emily cared about manners, and formalities, and respect.

After a while she stopped and proposed to give the car another try. Their story was written in the sky but also inside a car: they were cars and stars racing the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by "Lucky Ones", song by Lana del Rey.


	14. Flashback. A Flame

Alison was sitting on the edge of Emily's bed, delicately painting her nails in a striking pink color, when her phone beeped. She tried to reach out for it further on the bed, not very convincingly, until Emily noticed the posture and picked it up for her.

"Thanks."

Her striking smile mirrored the striking flash of her newly polished nails, but she had some trouble trying to manipulate the phone with her painted nails and gave it back to Emily to read the text.

"You read it, please. I can't really do it now."

Emily smiled back and opened the text. "It's Aria. She'll be here in five minutes."

"Why didn't she text you?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders in ignorance and continued searching for the picture she'd promised to find in the magazine. It was the picture of a model with a really cute haircut. She'd said she'd find it in order to help Alison get a new amazing haircut.

"Are Spencer and Hanna coming too?", she asked absent-mindedly, looking through the magazine pages.

"Shouldn't you know that?", Alison replied pointedly. "It's your place, not mine."

Emily raised her head. "Yeah, I should know, right?"

She took her phone from the table and saw she had a text from Hanna where she said she couldn't come today. Her mom was forcing her to go to the gym with her.

"Hanna's not coming. I don't know about Spencer."

"She told me she'd come later", Alison informed, looking intensely concentrated on a nail. The little finger was always the hardest to get right.

"So you knew?"

"She called me when I was coming", she said distractedly. "She had to do something  _very_  important for her dad." She turned around in frustration. "Can you do this one for me?"

Emily nodded and left the magazine aside on the bed, taking Alison's hand in hers delicately. However, Alison gave her a mocking frown and signaled the nail color bottle with her head, moving her hand away to continue looking at the yet unpainted nail.

"This one's always hard", Alison both complained and warned. "Remember to paint a stripe first."

Emily nodded again, gently rolling the bottle again to warm it more and then scraping the brush so the excess of polish would go off it. After this thoughtful operation, Alison finally offered her hand again, and Emily focused on the matter as she held Alison's fingers on hers.

"She's always late", Alison added while she observed Emily perform on her nail. "Doesn't care enough."

Intensely concentrated on Alison's nail, Emily still wondered if Alison was talking about Spencer or about Hanna, because it was Hanna who usually arrived late, not Spencer. Maybe she was referring to both of them in the same sentence.

"Spencer's always on time", she finally decided to say.

She was trying to keep Alison's hand and her own fingers steady so she wouldn't miss it. Alison would be furious if she failed. But she wouldn't. She was always good with this kind of stuff. She was good at holding a hand, especially if it was Alison's.

"I meant Hanna", Alison clarified, and Emily felt a somewhat more intense glance directed to her and not to the nail operation. "Spencer does care, except when her family's involved."

"Her family always gives her a hard time", Emily contributed.

Alison shot one of her mysterious, knowing smiles, which almost made Emily miss it for once, maybe for the first time. But she held herself together and steady.

"It's more than that."

"What do you mean?"

It was Alison who shrugged this time, indicating this might be just the type of secret knowledge she wasn't supposed to share with anyone else on earth.

"Han cares too", Emily observed, thinking about how Alison always gave Hanna a hard time because of her tendency to arrive late or to not arrive at all, "but Spencer cares too much." She thought about Spencer for a second, while she finished the nail and let go of Alison's hand with a silent sigh. "Basically about everything."

"Too much?"

Alison chuckled a little mockingly, at the same time making an extraordinary effort to move and recline against the pillows and the headboard without destroying her now perfect nails.

"Just… you know", Emily tried to explain, "she always wants to do everything, and she wants to do it right. Also with everybody she cares about."

"You think?", Alison questioned again. "Yeah, I guess Spence's like that, a little."

Emily reclined against the headboard too, picking up the magazine again to continue her search for the missing picture. Out of the corner of her eye she could sense Alison's glances and catch a glimpse of her somehow distracting blonde curls.

"She cares too much about being a Hastings", Alison continued, although Emily hadn't really answered her last comment. "She doesn't care  _too much_  about other things."

She blew her nails very softly.

Emily stopped looking through the magazine, deciding she'd probably seen it in another one. She reached for the following one in the stack of magazines she'd brought upstairs from the living room.

"I think she cares too much about us too."

"Well, that's because you're sweet, Em." Alison tilted her head a little in Emily's direction, still careful not to touch anything with her hands. "But you don't see her for who she is." She sent her a piercing look now and laughed, but not blatantly. "You probably think we'll be friends forever."

Emily smiled widely at her. "Yeah, that's exactly what I think."

"See? I told you", Alison winked in complicity. "You're just like that. That's why only you and I care too much."

Since she had never thought of it that way, Emily frowned. However, it was nice to feel only she and Alison were the first and the only ones when it came to a part of their lives, although she didn't say anything about it. It was true that Alison was always the first and the only one in everything; but it wasn't so common to find Emily right after her. She could take it, though; especially if it was about caring. She was good at that too.

Although she didn't totally agree, Alison probably knew more about Spencer than her.

"Don't look at me like that", Alison said, registering Emily's frown as a sign of her slight disagreement. "Spencer's a cool friend. She's loyal and she's usually there. She just won't stay in Rosewood forever, Em. I thought you knew that."

Emily was somehow relieved that was what Alison had meant. But it wasn't only that.

"None of us will stay in Rosewood forever."

"Hanna will", Alison said, looking away. "Maybe we will too."

"You think so?"

Alison laughed at Emily's sudden expression of concern.

"Aria will probably get out to become a rock star or something like that. We'll get free tickets for her concerts."

She laughed more wholeheartedly now, still not wanting to say anything about Emily's concern.

"And us?"

"We'll get out too", Alison took the previous words back and smiled, finally giving Emily what she wanted, "but we'll always keep in touch, especially us." The way she said it, Emily understood she referred only to both of them. "We'll be stars."

Emily smiled back. She did want to get out of Rosewood at some point too. But she wanted to keep in touch with her friends. She'd take them with her in her luggage if she could.

She would do that, in a way. Wherever she had to go. Wherever she ended up, her friends would end up there with her.

Hanna too.

Hanna would be a star too.

"So all of us will become stars except for Hanna?", Emily asked, feeling protective of Hanna again. To be fair, she wasn't totally sure she would make it out of Rosewood either. Aria was going to be a rock star and Alison was probably going to shine in anything she decided to do. Like Spencer. No, Spencer would shine in a different way, because she was the brightest one of all of them, so she'd definitely be the biggest star, although not in a movie-like, Hollywood-style sense like Alison. In a much more serious sense. In a really serious sense - solemn and grave. As for Hanna and herself, perhaps they didn't have as many chances to shine, but they would anyway. "We can be stars in Rosewood too."

That was her best conclusion.

If they were all stars, they'd shine everywhere, even in Rosewood.

"We'll be stars everywhere we go", Alison agreed, almost picking up on her thoughts. "You will be, that's for sure."

Emily shyly looked away to the window, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by her need to actually become a star in her own room, suddenly wondering if Alison was serious or was only teasing her when she spoke to her like that.

"We're all good at doing something", she offered. "And Spencer's probably the best."

"That's only because she tries too hard." Alison smiled a wicked smile and then suddenly became silent. After a moment, she spoke again. "But I didn't say Spencer'd be a star."

Emily left the magazine, giving up on that one too, and picked up the nail color, thinking maybe she should use that one too. How cool would it be to have the same nail color? Would that mean something? Would it make it that obvious?

"She's the one who's got more chances of becoming one", Emily replied like that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Alison mockingly frowned at her.

"What do you think she'll do?"

Emily gave it some thought, but she didn't have to go too deep into it.

"She'll probably be the first female President or the next Secretary of State", she laughed. "And she'll stop world hunger and war if she wants to. Or if her dad wants her to."

Alison laughed at that too.

"Wow, you have great expectations for her", Alison answered, stressing the words with a distinctively naughty tone. "Watch out, maybe she won't go that far."

The mention of the  _great expectations_  she had for Spencer made Emily shiver a little at the memory of the kiss she'd shared with Alison in the library. However, she tried not to think about it now, and looked at her wondering what she exactly meant when she mentioned it like that in normal, ordinary conversation, almost as if it didn't matter, as if they were talking about something else. But they  _were_  talking about something else. They were talking about Spencer. So she wondered too if Alison didn't have those expectations for Spencer herself. They were really close. They were very good friends.

"What do you think she'll do?", Emily shot the question back.

"Yeah, maybe", Alison answered, distracted with one of the pictures of the magazine Emily had previously discarded on the bed. "I think she'll do whatever her father wants her to do. She'll become a senator, or a senator's wife." Alison looked thoughtful for a second. "Although I'm pretty sure she's got her chances of becoming a senator's  _lover_  too."

She shot another one of her wicked smiles, as if she knew a lot about senators and about senator's lovers. But that had sounded weird. The way she said the word  _lover_  had sounded weird, like it hid second, third, fourth meanings behind. Spencer, a senator's lover? A senator's senator wife maybe, perhaps a senator's senator lover, but only a  _lover_ , as in a mistress? Emily couldn't really picture that. Spencer was too ambitious, smart and proud to become only  _that_.

She was going to ask when Aria came in the room, her red-purple highlights shining as a reminder of her future rock-star condition.

"Hey, girls."

She left her purse on the table and came to sit with them on the bed, facing the two other girls from her place at their feet.

"Aria, we're talking about Spencer", Alison greeted in a straight-forward manner, always a little malicious. "What do you think? Will she be a star like us or just a senator's mistress?"

Aria seemed completely taken aback with the question, and her big eyes opened even more in surprise.

"What are you talking about?"

"Spencer", Emily repeated, still puzzled by Alison's comment.

"We just decided you're gonna be a rock star, Aria", Alison let out that piece of information. "And Em thinks we'll always be friends."

What did one thing have to do with the other? Emily supposed she hadn't reached that level yet; and Aria hadn't either, because she was still confused with Alison's comments.

"I think so too, Em", Aria finally agreed, picking up on the last comment. "We'll always be friends."

"Spencer too?", Alison asked, her eyes shining as they always shone when she was on to something, particularly a lesson that needed to be taught to her all-girl clique.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"You're both too sweet", Alison smiled warmly, making sure her nails had completely dried before moving a little further away from Emily and approaching Aria on the bed. "I was saying Spencer's cool, but the moment she's out of here, she'll be out of here forever."

"Her family has a house here", Emily argued as if that explained everything. "She eventually has to come back."

Alison turned to look at her sweetly, but somehow she felt it as a slap because the hidden message was that she was dumb.

"I mean she'll be out of our lives", Alison explained. "It was good while it lasted. That's what you can expect of Spencer's friendship, you sweet ladies, and you better know about it now. She'll be here while she's here, once she's out, she's out forever."

Aria made herself more comfortable on the bed, laying face down and propping herself on her elbows.

"I don't agree", Aria thoughtfully said. "I think Spencer'll be a star  _and_  a senator. And I think she'll help us with a lot of stuff, and she'll get us positions in all the high places and we'll get rich thanks to her."

"I'll get Defence because of my dad", Emily laughed, still thinking Spencer would make it to the Presidency.

"She'll probably give you money", Alison smiled too, "if she still remembers you guys."

"Of course she will remember us", Aria argued. "We're not easy to forget. Right, Em?"

"I'm definitely not", Alison winked again, and stood up from the bed. "Em, I need something to drink. Where can I…?"

Emily stood up in a single instant.

"I'll get it. Aria, what do you want?"

"Just… whatever."

Alison sat down on a chair now, and Emily left the room in order to get lemonade, coke and some snacks her mom had prepared for her friends. In the kitchen, her mother was finishing some sandwiches too. That was sweet of her mom, so she approached her and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. She stayed around while her mom finished, talking about some things and thinking about others that were still in her head, making her dizzy and sad, making her happy and sad.

Once everything was prepared, she walked up the stairs back to her room with the tray. She was still in the stairs when she heard Aria and Alison talking to each other, apparently arguing about something. She could hear Aria's tense, strained voice a little higher than normal, higher than the softer, richer, mellifluous tone of Alison's voice.

"I just don't think you should say that about her, that's all", Emily heard Aria saying.

"I'm not saying anything bad, Ar", Alison replied calmly. "I know her better than you do, and there's nothing wrong with it, if you know how to use it. That's all I'm saying."

Who were they talking about? Were they talking about  _her_?

Emily's heart skipped many beats at once, just thinking Alison might have slipped something about her secret to Aria.

She couldn't deal with this now.

She froze.

Not now, not today, not at her  _place_.

Not with her mother down the stairs.

"Well, I don't like it", Aria said again, "and I don't think you should say it."

"Just calm down, Aria, it's no big deal. You and Em could learn a lot from her and you'd probably make it out of here earlier too."

She stopped in front of the door, suddenly relieved. If she could learn from her, it was another person and they weren't talking about her.

Who were they talking about then?

"There's nothing good about being called a slut, Ali", Aria replied. "Not with the way you say it."

A slut?

"What do you know?", Alison said, this time with a really sharp edge. "She'll get out of here before anyone else, what do you care if she sleeps around with a guy or two if she gets to be a senator? That's all I was saying. Don't be a prude like Em."

A senator.

They were still discussing Spencer.

Was that what Alison had meant when she'd said Spencer would become a senator's lover? That she slept around, and she'd use sex - and love - and the promise of sex to gain access to power? But Spencer  _was_ powerful already - the Hastings were.

Somehow she didn't like the way it sounded, the same way Aria said she didn't like it.

Why did Alison say she and Aria could learn from it? To make it out of Rosewood by sleeping around with people? Was Spencer sleeping around with people? As if Spencer would ever need that. She had the brains, and the connections too.

She didn't think so.

Spencer was probably the most studious person on earth. She seemed also clumsy and kind of naïve when it came to boys.

She opened the door to her room, trying to balance the tray so it didn't fall off her hands.

"Why are you arguing?", she asked, knowing they wouldn't answer the whole truth and somehow still pursuing it. "Are you all right?"

"It's just Aria", Alison answered, approaching Emily to pick up a glass of lemonade. "She gets mad at me because she needs to feel independent and free." She took a sip of her drink, and offered another glass to Aria as Emily left the tray on the table. "Take it, Aria."

Aria took the glass and seemed to try to relax a little under Emily's inquisitive gaze.

"It's nothing", she said.

"I was just saying that Spencer's the kind who'll sleep around a lot so she can make it to the top", Alison explained, dismissive, "and she took it badly. Right, Aria?"

"Why would Spencer need to sleep around for that?", Emily asked, feeling the argument between them was absurd. "I don't think she'll ever need to do that. She's smart enough."

"Maybe she's not as smart as you think", Alison shrugged, sending a cutting glance to Emily but then removing her eyes from her. She got one sandwich for her and another one for Aria, who took it and immediately bit it. "Or maybe she'll just do _anything_ to make it." She paused, taking in both Aria's and Emily's responses. "There's nothing wrong in wanting to make it to the top, and I know we're all gonna make it in a couple of years. I'll be the one to help you guys."

She turned again and offered a bright smile to both of them, although only Emily received it as a secret message.

"It may take us a little bit longer", Aria added, smiling already.

"But not too long", Emily smirked too.

The sandwiches flew in a matter of minutes and, when Spencer arrived, almost all of them had gone, so she had to go downstairs to the kitchen to ask Mrs. Fields for another one. She was starving after the tennis match she'd played against her dad and a client of his.

"How was the tennis match, Spence?", Alison asked when she came back from the kitchen.

"Good." She shot a lopsided grin while chewing on her sandwich. "I couldn't really help it. I won again."

"You always do", Emily summed up, sitting on her own bed to watch her friends.


	15. Blindsided

"Are you aware of what you're asking me to do?"

He reclined his back against the leather armchair, wiggling his thick eyebrows at her in a rather comical (unfortunately, cute too) gesture that actually counteracted the weight of his question. Almost as if he was having fun out of this situation.

Emily stood awkwardly in the middle of the office where he had conducted her in the hospital, and turned around a little to check if the door was completely shut. Then she nodded, trying to mitigate her uneasiness with a smile.

"I know it's a huge favor to ask", she confirmed with words, "again."

Here she was, delivering her best sweet-and-lost Emily impersonation. But somehow she wasn't sure it was totally working, maybe because this time she didn't actually sound so desperate as the first time, when she'd asked him not to tell her parents about the HGH results. She preferred to break in the hospital to steal them, but she'd given her word to Spencer. She was probably trying too hard. She wasn't the kind to impersonate herself so often, and it probably showed, in a sense.

Maybe her sugar-coating, smooth-talking magic didn't work with Wren at all. The fact that it might've worked with other people didn't totally assure a one-hundred percent success in life.

Maybe it only worked with Americans.

And with girls.

And with Toby.

"But", Wren asked from his seat facing the table, "why are you so sure someone wants to hurt you with those results? I thought everything was settled when we didn't tell your father."

And where he said  _we_ , he should have used  _I_. He was reminding her of the great help he'd already offered her once.

That was the main reason why she didn't really want to be here, asking for this.

"I'm a swimmer", Emily tried to explain from the starting point. "If that ever comes out, I'm done. It's a very important year and I can't afford it."

She couldn't really go into an explanation about A.

He wasn't probably going to do it anyway. He looked directly at her again, his eyebrows wanting to rise and failing to do it this time.

"You were a swimmer six months ago too and you didn't ask me to steal every trace that was left of those results", he argued convincingly. "So why are you doing it now?"

Why? Because A wanted to destroy her life and her love story.

Because love had changed, transformed her life, and she wasn't willing to give A the power to destroy it. Because she believed A might want to use it now, more than six months ago.

Because six months ago she was only Emily, the weakest link and former member of Alison's clique. Now she was Emily, renewed weakest link and member of the greatest power-couple the world ever knew of, as well as girlfriend to the leader of the A counter-attack force, and all those changes implied a greater risk, a greater strength, a greater... everything.

"I have reasons to believe they might come out now", she offered, trying to sound convincing too, yet cryptic at the same time, "and I need them not to if I wanna have a chance…" She paused to think about her next words: at a scholarship; at a reasonably happy existence; at life. "At life", she ended the sentence, sounding dramatic enough, but serious and even solemn.

Wren seemed to take some time to consider her words before saying no.

"Why don't you have a seat, Emily?" He pointed at the armchair in front of the table, next to which she was actually standing. "It's making me nervous to see you there standing up all serious and concerned, and I think we need to talk about this."

She complied and took the seat in front of him, but remained silent while he observed her with a curious expression on his boyish face.

"Why didn't you bring _Spensah_ with you?", he finally asked, leaning forward a little and spreading his arms on the dark wooden table. "I'd expect her to be here with you, am I right?"

The game was on.

She couldn't really avoid the frown which formed on her forehead and which somehow finally did away with her sweet-and-lost Emily impersonation. She could go back to being her true self right now. The mention of Spencer's name was the signal both of them were waiting for. It'd been him who'd laid out the cards.

"These are my HGH results we're talking about", Emily answered, matter-of-factly. "I don't see why she should be here."

"But you're dating."

So he knew. How did he find out? He was certainly keen on playing the game hard.

"How do you know?", she asked, even though she wanted to say some other thing that wouldn't reveal her slight surprise.

"There are many ways to find out about what _Spensah_ 's doing." Wren looked at her expectantly, almost as if he was enjoying this little talk of truth between them. "Rosewood is not a big city, it is rather a small town, and patients enjoy talking to their doctors."

Emily held his quizzical gaze and decided to go for it.

"Yes, we're dating. What's that got to do with this?"

He shrugged, back to his charming British self.

"Nothing, I guess. I just wonder why she's not here to help you persuade me."

This time, Emily felt like opening her mouth in disbelief at his strategy. She was a swimmer, she wasn't used to compete face to face with someone else. But she managed to keep her mouth closed. The game was on. She might be a teenager, but she ought to play it. He wasn't that much older than her, maybe a few years; and he wasn't that much  _cuter_  either.

Hell, he was only a little taller than her. She could do this.

Of course, there was also the fact that he was already a doctor, and British, and he'd travelled the world around and had a lot of experience that she totally and completely lacked, because she was just a high-schooler begging for her swimming career to go on while she secretly fought an archenemy nobody even knew about. But whatever.

She could do this anyway.

"These are my HGH results", Emily slowly repeated, "not hers."

Wren held her gaze while she spoke, but then looked away to check something on the computer in front of him and smiled his little, half smile that seemed to say he always knew better but he was always charming enough not to show off in a gross, openly rude way.

He spent some seconds looking at the screen and then spoke again in a faux distracted tone.

"How long have you known each other now?"

"Why does that matter?"

He looked right through at her again.

"Because you're asking me to steal something for you, and I'd like to know some things about both _Spensah_ and you before I make my decision."

His tone was serious now, although there was that snide undercurrent of slyness that still made everything sound as a game.

"So this is how it is?", Emily asked calmly too, trying hard to poker-face through the game. "If I volunteer information about us you decide if you wanna help me?"

He smiled openly, showing his teeth. He had a nice, honest smile. And his teeth were nice too, small and perfectly lined as if he was a cute puppy preparing to rip up his toy.

"I'd just like to know how long you've been friends."

She reclined against the armchair too, crossing her legs.

"A few years now."

She wouldn't volunteer  _all_  the information. There was not a requirement to give details.

"And how long have you been dating?"

Emily thought she was going to kill Spencer in revenge for this conversation.

"About four months now."

Wren nodded and wiggled his brows again, trying to look impressed. Then he studied her again with a much deeper, serious expression.

"You don't like me." He reclined again against his armchair, mirroring Emily's position. "You could tell me why, now that we're here."

Emily's heart jumped at his bluntness, but she guessed this was the real thing. She guessed this was where the whole game was headed from the start. So, now that she was here, she'd rather be honest. She could be honest. She had to; because that was, apparently, what he was after.

"It's not that I don't like you", she tried to clarify honestly, but not  _too_  honestly. "It's mainly that I don't trust you."

She swallowed, feeling suddenly small in the leather armchair.

Spencer was going to be furious if she found out she hadn't played graceful all the time opposite Wren. She wasn't going to understand the dynamics and the strategy Wren was following, thus the ones Emily was being forced to take on as well.

He seemed to take her honest words well, though. He was probably searching for that kind of answer, and somehow it pleased him.

"Is that all? The way I remember it, you weren't anything else than a friend when I kissed her." He paused, looked intently into Emily's eyes, and smiled again. "Every time I kissed her."

For some reason, Emily felt like getting up and slapping him in rage at the slightly snarky comment about all the times the kiss had happened (how many times had it happened? She didn't even want to know). However, she succeeded at biting her tongue and fighting her body to react; she remained cool and dignified.

"That's true", she agreed. "But that doesn't mean I have to trust you."

He chuckled in amusement. "So basically you're telling me that you don't trust me but that you'd like me to steal something very important for you?"

Unfortunately, he had a point, and Emily saw it.

She sighed deeply.

"You're right", she conceded. "I shouldn't be asking you this. It's wrong and I should just leave."

Leave to get Aria to steal the goddamn HGH results with her.

She started to move in order to get up, but that wasn't obviously the answer he was expecting, because he leaned forward again in concern, suddenly serious. His forehead wrinkled as his brows rose pointedly above his eyes.

"Emily, wait", he asked, and she stopped. "Let's just keep talking."

"Talking about what? About Spencer?"

She sounded a little rattled now, more than she intended and wanted to sound in front of him.

"No." Wren took another moment to closely study her. "I like you, Emily, I really do. I'm not a bad guy. I wish you could see that."

She did see he wasn't a bad guy. The word  _bad_  didn't apply to him. But she didn't like him.

"It's not that I think you're a bad guy." She moved uncomfortably in her seat. "I just don't trust you. I can't."

"Tell me your reasons."

"Why?"

Wren didn't answer right away, but raised his brows again in that particularly funny way he had of doing it. As much as she hated the image, Emily couldn't avoid thinking of the competition of eyebrow-raising which he and Spencer would enjoy were they together in the same room.

That was a competition that would never happen again if she could stop it.

"I never tried anything once she was with you", he said as if he had to defend himself.

"That doesn't mean anything", Emily replied a little too sharply. "You haven't really seen her lately."

He sighed, defeated, and looked down at his hands on the table.

"I was engaged to her sister. That was  _very_  inconvenient and inappropriate. I get it."

Well, at least he  _got_  that.

"You kissed her the same day she broke up with her boyfriend", she added, but she knew she shouldn't get into this part of the conversation.

He seemed surprised, but then again pleased at her honest reaction.

"But you kissed her too, right?"

How in hell could he know that?

"Yeah", she admitted. "But at least I  _waited_  to do it."

"How long?", he asked again.

Emily's dark brown eyes opened wide in surprise. "More than a week."

"You have more patience, I'll give you that", he replied, but Emily failed to determine if he meant it or if he was being sarcastic. "But there's this other thing…" He said, considering if he should say it. "Her boyfriend… he was a friend of yours too. Right?"

Oh, please.  _How_  did he know all these things?

A part of her felt ashamed. Because he was right. And because he knew about it.

Another part of her felt outraged. Yes, he was right: she was a traitor. But – there were other factors, and her being a traitor didn't make  _him_  look good. He was still a nasty piece of charming British shit who'd basically kissed her when he was engaged to her sister and then kissed her again the day she was crying over a boyfriend whom she claimed to love. And who knew how many more things, how many more inappropriate things he could have done, that fortunately Spencer hadn't really mentioned to her?

Finally, there was a tiny bit of her who felt… absolutely, radically honest. It was entirely wrong to have this conversation, because it felt like she was fighting a rival and there was no need to do that. He was no rival of hers. The situation was settled and established: she was Spencer's girlfriend, and he had nothing to do about it. He wished he did, but he didn't. But, despite that fact that actually gave her an advantage and made her the winner of this game, it was the first time she could actually acknowledge these thoughts she had only thought to herself during the last months, ever since all of this started, or even before it did. It was still awkward to tell  _him_  but, on a certain level, Wren was probably the only person whom she could talk to like that. It wasn't as if anybody else was ever going to understand. Not even Hanna or Aria. Not Toby, for sure.

Not even Spencer.

On  _that_  certain level, only Wren could understand. And they both knew that.

"At least I  _am_  her age", she fought back with all of her weapons. "And I've known her for years. I used to be her best friend, and still am in many ways. I know her. I know who she is."

And that totally settled the discussion. Because no matter how much he showed his little teeth, how much he adoringly pronounced Spencer's name with that slight final touch of elegance and delicacy, how much his brows danced around and talked, he could never know Spencer like she did. He could never handle Spencer like she did. And he could never get Spencer to realize what it all meant, the way she did; the way she'd done.

Wren seemed amused at her sudden outburst of passion.

"I'm still a nice guy", he replied, smiling. "That's what I'm trying to say. All of that doesn't really make you better than me."

She looked directly at him, fire burning in her eyes.

"I never said I was better than you." It was true. She'd never said that. "But I'm the right person for her right now, and that's exactly what I am. I'm the right person. And you never were the right person, you have to admit that."

He smiled openly again, but seemed impressed at the same time. He sent her a glance of curiosity and respect that actually surprised her and made her feel a little embarrassed.

"I like you."

"Thank you", Emily politely replied, not really knowing what else to say.

He laughed at the surprise that was showing in her features, and he decided to expand on his thought.

"You're welcome. I like how blunt you are while at the same time managing to be perfectly nice."

Well, wasn't that who she was when she was at her best? Not exactly blunt, but honest.

And very few people could manage to actually come across nicer than her. Apparently, her magic was somehow working with him too. It was a gift.

She actually liked this guy.

No, she didn't. She  _would_ , though, if it weren't because she absolutely distrusted him.

It was Emily who leaned forward on the table now, trying to take advantage of her winning position in the game.

"Look, I get it. You like her. It's okay, I understand", she told him, and how could she  _not_  understand? "But that doesn't mean I can trust you, and I won't."

"It's more than liking her, you know", Wren answered, riding the wave of honesty too. "But I won't get in the way, if that's what you're afraid of."

She gave him a disbelieving look, and he laughed now as if he actually had to distrust himself too.

"Right, I can't totally promise you that", he agreed. "But I do like you. It'd be nice to know you like me too if you want me to steal these things for you."

She breathed deeply.

"I don't like you", she finally said, feeling unable to play her nice self again. "I cannot like you, I'm sorry. And anyway you're not gonna do it. I know it's too much to ask."

She was just asking him because it was her duty after she had agreed to do it. Relationships were about bargaining and compromising. So she'd always been told by everybody around her, and she also believed it because she'd seen it work with her parents and because it seemed reasonable enough, and because that was also the best way everything worked, even with friends. She'd learned that too after the A debacle had started, when she'd had to learn to deal with Hanna, Aria and Spencer in a whole different way to that which they were all used to when they were just childish, innocent friends who were basically subjected to Alison's strange moods and desires.

It was because she believed in bargaining and compromise that she was now trying her best at it, when it came to Spencer.

"Why do you assume I'm not going to do it?"

She looked at him in hesitation and distrust, trying not to get her hopes up after hearing his words.

He wouldn't do it for her. He'd do it for Spencer.

"You'd do it for Spencer", she voiced the voice in her head, "not for me."

"If I got you to like me, I'd possibly do it for you too."

What game was he playing now? Suddenly she felt too young and innocent to play.

He couldn't be possibly implying he actually  _liked_  her that much.

Wren gave her a cute smile that showed he was partly joking – and enjoying her confusion. He supported his head on the palm of his hand and funnily watched Emily again, as if considering all the pros and cons of the situation.

He finally decided to speak again, taking into account Emily's retreat into a shy silence.

"I'd do it for _Spensah_ , you're right", he decided to come clean to her. "But I'd also do it for you, if I decided to do it, which I haven't decided yet. You've shown a lot of nerve coming here to ask and I like that about you, among other things."

Emily smiled a little smile, her own version of her cute, knowing, shy smile that was so different from his.

"When do you need me to tell you?", he asked, suddenly changing his position in the armchair.

She shrugged in response. She hadn't actually thought about when, since she didn't really believe he'd do it.

"I guess it's urgent", he insisted, "if you're so convinced someone wants to use it against you."

"I'd like to do it before school starts again", she offered, feeling suddenly so shy about asking him this.

Spencer was going to be done with community service in a couple of days.

School was starting again in a couple of weeks.

She figured that would be A's starting point again.

He suddenly stood up, and she immediately mirrored his movement, taking it as a cue to leave.

"I'll think about it and I'll let you know tonight", he said as he moved towards her. He stopped when he was in front of her. "Can you give me your number? It's for all the right reasons. And I guess you don't want me calling _Spensah_."

Emily shot him a funny glance (she could also do stuff with her brows, after all) and wrote her phone number on a piece of paper, which he carefully folded into his wallet. Then they politely said their goodbyes, and Emily left the office and the hospital to enter the bright, warm light of day in the parking lot. As she walked towards her car and took out her phone to call Spencer, she thought the conversation hadn't gone so bad. He wasn't probably going to do it, anyway; or maybe he would. He was a little surprising, to tell the truth. Everything about the conversation had been kind of surprising and unexpected. Here she'd been an hour earlier, thinking she'd have to play nice and sweet in order to turn around and leave empty-handed; here she was now, after being not only honest but  _blunt_  at his request, which had gained her, after all, the promise that he'd think it over. And somehow, something told her there was a chance he'd say yes, even if she wasn't completely sure as to why he'd actually do it.

Spencer picked up the phone immediately. She was waiting for Emily's call, and she wanted to know everything about the conversation, but Emily, as she started the car and manoeuvred out of the parking space, didn't tell her exactly how it'd been. The information about her little competition with Wren was better left out. It was something so private and absurd at the same time, Spencer didn't really need to know about it. Emily felt almost as if she'd played a romantic mortal combat with a significant rival, and she didn't totally approve of the strange feeling she got out of it. Almost as if she'd won the combat. Almost as if she felt proud and arrogant because she  _was_  better than him, in a way; in the most important way, at least. Whatever the reasons, she didn't say anything, and had to hang up on Spencer anyway when a police car appeared in the surroundings of the road she was going to take. They agreed to talk later, like they always did anyways, and Emily headed home.

She spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening helping Hanna and Ms. Marin decorate the house for Caleb's birthday tomorrow. When it was already late at night, she took her evening shower and went back to her bedroom, where she decided to check her phone to see if there was already a response from Wren. She'd been so relaxed after the conversation with him she'd kind of forgotten about her phone until that moment.

There was, indeed, a text.

But it wasn't from Wren yet.

" _Poor little Em: you're being played. It's time to go visit Toby at Hearbreak Hotel, where you sent him in the first place_. – A"

Her heart jumped and twisted and raced too at the words she read, but she immediately opened the attachment.

There was a picture. Well, of course there was. How could there not be a picture? That was A's favourite thing. And, of course, Wren was in it. He was smiling his half, little smile that said he always knew better, but he was always too charming to show off in a rude way. He was smiling to someone. That someone was Spencer. Well, of course it was: Spencer.

You couldn't really see her face, just her brown waves and a sight of her chin and her crooked nose, but you'd recognize the waves, you'd recognize the nose and the chin and the semi-pout anywhere, even if the light wasn't so good and she was giving her back to the camera, leaving Wren with its full attention and focus. You'd recognize her anywhere, even in the dark, even at a longer, impossible distance, even with a worse quality, even if it wasn't the back of her head but a hand, or a leg, or a foot that was there, a finger, a toe. Anywhere. Anyway.

When was this picture taken? And where?

A restaurant. Or a cafeteria. It seemed to be a public place. There were two glasses, a table. A fork in Wren's hand. A  _fork_  which meant  _food_.

They had eaten  _food_  together.

Go kill them. Now.

She downloaded the picture to her laptop and amplified it, this time to look for other clues that were not blood or wounds in the back of the head of a person. It was definitely a restaurant. Wren was definitely smiling his charming smile to Spencer. Spencer's face couldn't be totally seen, although Emily could catch the trace of a smile too, the trace of a smile that stuck like an arrow reaching her shoulder and leaving her dumbfounded and in pain. You'd see her anywhere, anyway, you'd always know it was her, you'd always realize, you'd always, always, yes - yes - there was no doubt about it - no doubt - she'd never be so dumb, so blunt, so dumb to miss it.

She didn't get mad. Her eyes didn't fill with tears of rage. This was different.

Blood, not tears, came rushing up to her head, all at once, to a point the rest of her body felt limp and shallow. She could literally feel the smoke coming out of her ears. She could fry eggs on the top of her head. She could unleash a torment of fire right now and be cast in a movie as a natural disaster. She could be July and August at the same time, and cause a drought and become a desert and a locust plague.

She was Being Played. At Heartbreak Hotel. With Toby.

Toby, whom she'd sent there.

Toby.

All the same.

All this time, she'd been thinking she had to be careful and delicate about Spencer's heart. She'd gotten drunk and made a fool of herself because of Spencer's heart. And now…

But those were A's words.

A wanted to hurt them – always, always, you'd always realize.

A was probably lying, even if the picture was real. When? When had this happened? And why? Why was Spencer there?

Tears did come to her eyes now, but she fought them back, still in shock.

She closed her laptop and got up, heading in a rush towards the door. She ran down the stairs, almost flying while the smoke burned away everything that was left behind.

"Emily", she heard a voice calling her when she was already so, so close to the front door. "Emily, where are you going?"

She turned around and forced a smile to Ms. Marin.

"I'm… It'll just take me five minutes." Her voice sounded weird. Low. But not shaky. "I need to clear something up."

Ms. Marin wasn't in the mood for teenage heartbreak, though.

"Emily, you and Hanna have to understand you can't just leave the house every time you need to clear something up with someone", she warned strictly. "It's too late to go out. Can't you make a phone call?"

Emily's determination didn't flicker. She was so, so mad, her vision was X-rayed and she knew she'd get out of that door after burning Ms. Marin too, if she needed to do it.

"This can't be talked on the phone", Emily responded, not moving away from the door. "I need to talk to Spencer face to face."

Ms. Marin seemed to hesitate now, at least a little, at the mention of Spencer's name.

"Emily, you can't leave the house without telling me where you're going. You have to understand that."

"I'm sorry", Emily apologized. She actually understood. But nothing was going to stop her. "I was just… I need to clear something up with her. It'll take only five minutes to go to her place and back."

Five minutes was all she needed to throw the phone to her face, right? Then she'd be back to plan how she'd stab Dr. Kingston's smile with that same fork he was using to eat  _food_  in a  _restaurant_  with her  _girlfriend_.

Ms. Marin's features softened up a bit.

"Hanna", she called out, and Hanna's blond waves immediately appeared on the door to the kitchen, from where she'd been listening to the exchange. "Hanna, you go with Emily to the Hastings'. I want both of you back in half an hour. If you take five more minutes you'll both be grounded and there'll be no birthday tomorrow and there'll be no weekend for any of you. Is that clear?"

Instead of protesting for being threatened with a punishment she didn't deserve, Hanna moved quickly to Emily's side and nodded to her mother in acceptance.

They both left the house almost running, Hanna trying to keep up with Emily's pace until they arrived to the car. They got in, and Emily started it without saying a word. The car sped up down the road in the direction of the Hastings'.

Emily sensed Hanna's questioning glances on her the whole time.

"What happened?", Hanna finally dared to ask. "What did she do?"

"Nothing", Emily answered curtly, but then felt guilty about it. "I need to talk to her first."

Was she being played?

Was A making this up?

She had to listen to whatever Spencer had to say about this before ripping her heart out with her teeth and spitting it out and throwing it to the sea, where it could never be found again.

"Is it that bad?", Hanna tried again.

"Han, I can't tell you now", Emily replied, forcing her voice to soften and sounding strained instead. "I need to talk to her first."

Then she remembered Hanna might want to break Spencer's legs, so she decided to offer a reassuring, soothing sign to her.

"It's not that bad", she continued. "It's just… I'm really mad right now. I can't say anything."

Hanna seemed to accept the sign and calmed down a little, following the road with her eyes.

Oh, Jesus, she was mad. She  _was_  mad. And she was jealous. And she was  _on fire_. But she had to hear Spencer. Spencer wouldn't just do that without a reason.

For god's sake, she had given her father's pendant to her just some days ago! And it'd been her! It was her heart, and Spencer had said she'd take good care of it, and she couldn't just step on it and mess with it like it was some kind of stupid little thing. And she wouldn't. Not the Spencer she knew. The Spencer she  _knew_. That was what she'd said to Wren. She knew her better than anyone. Of course she did. But somehow she hadn't realized, she hadn't seen it coming when Spencer said she wouldn't do anything about the HGH results.

Had she lied to her?

But this was Spencer. Spencer always did something. Spencer always acted on her impulses and ideas and meditations and crazy plans.

Spencer was the one who talked to Emily's coach about Paige's comments without telling Emily about it. Spencer was the one who talked to Mr. Fitz about Aria and Jason without telling Aria about it. Spencer did her own thing to protect her people. Spencer went solo when she thought it was necessary, when she had to have what it took.

Spencer had possibly done this to help Emily. That was what the Spencer she knew would do. That was what her Spencer would do, and Emily hadn't really seen it coming.

And the Spencer who kissed Wren, who was she?

Emily didn't know, wasn't sure - but she _knew_ , she was _sure_.

She hadn't been played. Deceived, yes. Lied to, check. Treated as a child. A fool, a negligent, incompetent piece of swimming meat, yes. Humiliated while she believed she was actually both reaching an understanding and kicking Wren's ass, double check - double check - he had gotten fun out of it - a puppy, a toy.

But not played.

Not played and sent to Heartbreak Hotel to face karma next to Toby.

Suck that up, A. I know that even  _without_  talking to her.

Somehow she should feel better about it, but she didn't. The smoke didn't stop coming out of her head, and the image of Wren saying he liked her, that he wasn't the bad guy, that he wouldn't get in the way, that he couldn't really promise her he wouldn't try though, made her want to turn around and drive back to the hospital to kill him for real. At least he was in a hospital where he'd get the proper treatment and be saved.

Had he tried?

If there was a thing she totally disliked about being in love was jealousy. It was awful. It made her feel powerful without control, so vulnerable and insecure at the same time.

Had he tried? Of course he'd tried. He was  _Wren_ , the British conqueror who always, always tried his luck.

They arrived to the Hastings, where she parked the car in the driveway in a single driving move. Being crazily angry was actually good for her reflexes and her ninja moves. Maybe she should get angry more often. Maybe she'd be more efficient if she got angry more often. If she did, even A would fall tonight.

She turned to Hanna.

"Wait here for me."

Hanna nodded, while Emily got out of the car and steadily walked to ring the bell to the Hastings.

 


	16. Parachutes

It was Spencer who opened the door to the house.

A car had screeched its brakes in the driveway, so all of her senses had come to life at the sound and she had run to the door after seeing it was Emily's.

When she opened the front door, Emily was there, looking beautifully upset. Her dark hair was tied up in a bun-like ponytail, bringing out the pure liveliness of her facial expressions, especially the eyes. Her eyes were burning, not merely fiery or caught in sparks; it was more as if tears were threatening to flow, but at the same time they weren't shining, weren't brewing a storm, but were still in the back of her throat; how her eyes reflected her internal struggle, or how Spencer was able to grasp this, she didn't know. Perhaps it was the time she'd spent decoding all of her signs and wondering about them. But she could see Emily was making a visible effort to control whatever was inside her, although her mouth twitched in a grimace of disgust the second she appeared at the door.

It meant one thing: bad news.

"Em", Spencer greeted instantly, while registering all this information about Emily's state. She stepped out of the door, sensing trouble and trying to somehow close the distance and offer support. "Why didn't you call me? What's wrong?"

The sound of Spencer's voice only seemed to upset Emily more, though. She seemed wordless for a second, even startled at the greeting, but then, as the only response, Emily stepped back to put distance between them and then stretched her arm in Spencer's direction, showing a cell phone to her.

"What does this mean?"

Those were her words. Her voice sounded low and hoarse but still controlled, a voice Spencer had never heard before, not this low and distant and almost vague. And, by this time, she had mostly heard all of the sounds Emily's throat was able to utter. Apparently, there were some she still had to hear.

"And when did this happen?", Emily decided to add to her previous question.

Spencer took the phone in her hands and looked at the picture, although she already knew what was in it. She was expecting it, although not so soon. A was fast this time. Faster than he/she/it had been other times. But at least she was expecting this. In a way, Spencer felt relieved it wasn't some other thing, some other threat or problem or disaster in their lives. This she could work out. She was already prepared to face this kind of trouble.

She turned around to close the door behind her and grabbed Emily's arm to drag her away from the front entrance. They walked to a side of her house, and she caught a glimpse of Hanna inside of Emily's car.

They stopped in front of the yard where they'd kissed the first time.

"Em, I did it for us."

Spencer hoped this was a good, proper way to start the argument she knew they were having now.

"You did what?" Emily's voice sounded strained but not so controlled anymore. "You have exactly fifteen minutes to explain what you did, because Hanna's mom only gave me half an hour to come here and talk to you, so go on, talk now."

Only fifteen minutes? Spencer wasn't sure it was going to be so easy to put out this fire.

"I had to make sure he'd listen to you", Spencer offered as a continuation of her first point.

"When did this happen?", Emily repeated her obsessive question.

"Yesterday."

Emily's eyes burned even more at the answer.

"I can't believe this." She raised her voice and shot an accusatory glance, immediately crossing her arms in a defensive posture. "You've let me go there talk to  _him_  without telling me you had already…" She paused, suddenly remembering something. "Did you tell him about us?"

"What?"

Spencer didn't understand the question.

"Did you tell him about us?", Emily repeated, her voice high-pitching and already uncontrolled. "Did you tell him I kissed you here in the yard, did you tell him I was Toby's friend too?"

Suddenly, that was the only explanation she could think of to  _all_  the details Wren had found out about Spencer and her and which he'd cared to share during their competitive conversation.

Spencer seemed confused, though.

"I… I just talked to him", Spencer tentatively answered. "I had to be nice to him so he'd listen to us."

She had answered some of his questions, yes. But nothing really relevant, just a way to make conversation and, essentially, to  _force_  him to understand why it was important for her that he'd listen to Emily.

"So is that a yes?", Emily asked trying to control her voice again. "You did tell him about us. You did tell him about _me_. I hope you were  _truly_  nice to him while making sure he'd listen to me."

The way she said it, it was meant to strike.

"Well, he listened to you, right?", Spencer stroke back. "Which was the whole point of meeting him."

Emily didn't like her strike back, because this time tears did come to her eyes.

"He  _was_  gonna listen to me, Spencer, which was the whole point of our agreement." There was real hurt in her words, but it immediately morphed into bitterness that was being tried as sarcasm. "Whatever happened to the  _we talk about everything, we stick together_  rules you enacted? I guess they only apply to me, not to you, cause you just get to lay them out for me to follow. But you're not really bound by anything, right? You just get to do whatever you want."

Her words were shot so fast and precise she sounded as a submachine gun, not really allowing Spencer any time or space to speak. Had Hanna taught her to speak like that? Or maybe it had been Spencer's own teaching lesson. She could speak fast too.

"Are you here to actually listen to me or just to snap at me?" Spencer managed to shoot back those words before Emily could find more heavy artillery against her dating and A-defensive rules. "Because, first off, we  _are_  talking about it. And second, this wasn't about A, so I didn't break any rule."

Emily opened her mouth in disbelief.

"You really are your parents' daughter." Her voice trembled in fury. "Way to change the rules at your convenience."

Man, she  _was_  mad. Those words about being her parents' daughter stung intensely, but Spencer decided not to get into them now. It was better to try to continue with her explanation, even if she had to keep it cool and not get into the fire.

"I did it for  _us_ , Em", she tried again. "I knew you were gonna get mad, but I  _had_  to do it anyway. I just talked to him, nothing happened!"

"Nothing happened? You  _lied_  to me!"

Emily actually yelled for the first time.

"I didn't lie to you."

In order to counteract Emily's yell, Spencer tried to lower her own voice, so they wouldn't inform the whole neighbourhood about their fight.

"You did! You promised you wouldn't try to talk to him and I believed you!"

That was what hurt the most. She had believed her. Well, that and the fact that Spencer had told him about them. That, and the fact that Spencer had  _met_  with him.

"I meant what I said", Spencer explained, her voice a little bit shaky now because she knew this was the most slippery territory. "But I changed my mind afterwards."

"And you didn't care to inform me."

Emily tried to give it a sarcastic turn, but her tone was mainly bitter and hurt.

"I made a decision", Spencer took advantage of the slight shift of tone and volume. "I knew we were gonna have a fight over this, so I decided it was better to have it  _after_  I did it."

Talking it over once again would have led to inaction. She knew her hands would've been tied if she'd argued her point and Emily had refused to accept it – again. So she had decided to do it and fight over it later. This fight was the price of her decision.

Emily looked at her again in disbelief, but seemed suddenly too shocked to answer anything. The new shift, the fact that Emily suddenly stopped yelling and speed-talking provided a new opportunity to try a new shot at her explanation but, instead of speaking, Spencer tried to get closer and reached out for Emily's arm.

Emily flinched at the contact, almost affronted by it. It was too soon.

Words were still better.

"Emily, I knew you were gonna get mad at me, but I had to do it and face the consequences." Which were these; these were the consequences. "I had to make sure he understood this was important for  _us_ , okay? You weren't really gonna try hard enough."

Emily recovered her voice, however briefly. "What?"

"Let's be honest", Spencer accused too, albeit in a softer tone. "You were gonna talk to him but you weren't really gonna  _try_  to convince him."

Emily didn't like this accusation either. Maybe it was an aggressive way of addressing the matter at hand, but Spencer knew how proud Emily was, especially about this. She knew Emily was only doing it to calm her down before returning to her original idea of stealing the documents. And she couldn't allow that to happen.

Besides, between Emily's pride and Wren's difficult position nothing was really going to happen, not even if Emily tried a little harder. The only way of making it happen was if she took part in it. And that was what she'd done.

"I did try to convince him", Emily answered, because she  _had_  tried; she'd engaged in the combat of wit against him just to show him she was  _the one_ , just to follow his weird, wicked strategy and win him over. All for nothing. "I was trying to convince him without knowing you already did it over  _food_  and  _drinks_!"

Damn. This was going to be hard. She was yelling again.

Spencer looked over Emily's shoulder and caught a peek of Hanna in the car. How many more minutes did she still have left to try again?

"I didn't have food or drinks with him, Em."

Maybe this approach would be more effective.

"Right. That's why he's eating in the freaking picture!", Emily accused. "In a restaurant!"

"That's because he  _ate_ , but I didn't", Spencer argued. "He was hungry after work, and that is  _not_  my fault." She paused for a moment to check there were still flames coming out of Emily's eyes. "How many hours have you actually dedicated to study that fucking picture before coming here?"

Not hours: minutes, very long, torturing minutes that felt like long hours, even like days with their nights.

"A lot of them", Emily defiantly replied, not really ashamed to show her jealousy or her paranoia anymore. "A whole lotta them. And you're  _so_  lucky I can't even see your face in that fucking picture, Spencer."

The words sounded nasty and threatening, but there was a touch of vulnerability that came through so strong and intense that made Spencer feel weak, feel fearful too, instead of angry or offended.

"Emily", she tried once again, "please. Stop thinking about the picture and just listen to me."

Emily snorted and looked away into the slightly lit up distance of the yard, trying to breathe to calm herself down. She knew why Spencer had done it. She'd realized already before talking to her, when she was driving the car on her way to the Hastings'. She had to forget about the picture.

But it still hurt.

Spencer, the one who called the shots in town; the one who made the decisions, enacted the rules, reasoned the strategies and clued everybody in - or not. Sometimes she kept everything hidden and a secret, even from her. 

She looked right through at Spencer again, who was already in her summer PJs, shorts and a T-shirt. Her skin was getting goose bumps because the summer was ending and there was already a cool breeze at night. She looked ready to jump into bed, slightly dishevelled, her waves falling down her shoulders, on her T, some falling on her forehead too. This was the girl who called the shots in town, or at least in their small group of people: skinny, nerdy, frail-looking Spencer, who was actually stronger than anyone else, the head of the game, always in charge and not afraid.

She caught a sight of the Nefertiti head down her collarbone, shining silver, hidden in between the fabrics of her dark green T. Her heart swelled and then shrunk in pain at the sight. That was her, that was her own heart, hidden inside Spencer's dark green T. What did it mean? What did _everything_ mean? 

She could feel her anger already fading away, leaving only a trail of questions and doubts.

"Did he try to kiss you?", she asked, her tone returning to normal.

"No", Spencer answered, and her voice was firm but really low too. "I made it perfectly clear I was there for nothing else but you and me."

"Did he flirt with you?", Emily asked her next question.

This one couldn't be responded so firmly.

"Does that really matter?"

"It's a simple question", Emily answered back calmly. "It's a yes or no question, _Spensah_."

Emily managed an ironic turn in that one. Even though she was still hurt, even though they were fighting over this and Spencer didn't know how long it'd take to actually make Emily see it'd been done for the best, Spencer had to smile at that.

Maybe it was a nervous smile. But she had to smile, because it was funny.

And, somehow, Emily smiled a little in return. It wasn't an open smile, just the twitch of one, a very slight turn-up of the lip, but it was there.

"He tried to flirt", Spencer answered, encouraged by the shadow of a smile, "but it didn't really work."

Because she hadn't flirted back.

"Yeah, of course he tried", Emily retorted, the smile fading away. "You're so lucky I can't really see your face in the picture", she repeated, now in a calmer, lower voice, "because if I did, and if I caught anything that I just didn't…" She trailed off, looking for the right words, but gave up and decided on continuing the sentence. "I'd be so mad you'd really remember this fight forever."

If she caught the twinkle of an eye or the blaze of a twisted smile in Spencer, all the signs she already knew so well, she couldn't be able to control her mind from imagining the worst, even if the worst was just a little flirting.

Oh, jealousy.

She couldn't really stand it.

She couldn't really stand imagining even the possibility of flirting, if it meant Spencer was flirting with Wren.

Because Spencer had kissed Wren in the past, regardless of everything that made him the wrong person. And because it was Wren. Because it was Wren, and Wren was cute and honest when he said he wouldn't really stop trying, and because Wren was Emily's official enemy from now on and forever, only second best after A. They'd both been honest (well, she'd been more honest than him, after all) and they both understood each other to a certain degree, but she would never give him a chance after this.

Spencer dared touch Emily's hand now, and this time Emily didn't completely flinch at the brush of their fingers, so she slowly took her hand in hers.

"I think I'm already gonna… kinda remember this fight anyway", Spencer said. "You're so mad at me."

She'd never seen Emily  _this_  mad, truth be told.

"Did you feel anything?" Emily asked her last question, and her voice trembled again at the demonstration of her own insecurity. Jealousy, you are a bitch. "When you were with him alone?"

Spencer squeezed Emily's hand in hers and looked into her eyes.

"There's only one thing I feel and it's you, Emily."

Emily looked away, unable to hold Spencer's gaze.

"I'm still mad at you." But her voice sounded small already.

"I'm sorry."

Anger flashed again in Emily's eyes.

"Don't say you're sorry if you're not, Spencer."

Despite the new flash of anger, Emily didn't move her hand away.

"I  _am_  sorry you're mad, Em."

Emily sent her a look that said she did accept that apology, and then looked down at her watch to check the time.

"I really have to get going now, if you don't want Hanna to get grounded because of us."

She tried to move away now, but Spencer didn't let go.

"Just… How long are you gonna…" Spencer tried to rephrase, a growing anxiety that showed in her voice, which came out raspy but a little whiny. "Like, how long will it take for you to, you know, stop being mad at me?"

Emily came closer to her, her features softening up a bit.

"It's not gonna go away in five minutes, Spencer."

It was going away already. It had already gone away, a large part of it anyway. But she couldn't just go back to her normal self in an instant.

Spencer didn't let go of her yet, though.

"Can I call you later? Or will you call me?"

"You can call me", Emily assured. "And I will call you too. Just…"

"You're still angry."

Spencer seemed more fearful now than when they first started yelling. It was Spencer's usual anxiety. She said she'd face the consequences, but it cost her a lot of effort to actually do that, no matter how much she said she would.

Emily felt her heart grow inside of her at the realization.

"I don't like feeling like an idiot", Emily finally said, grasping what was left of her anger. "You really need to stop treating me like someone in need of constant protection and backup."

Spencer seemed concerned again.

"I don't treat you like that", she replied. "And I certainly don't treat you like an idiot."

Emily shot her a blank stare.

"You let me go there for nothing. Whatever he's doing, he's doing for you."

"No", Spencer denied, realizing she hadn't really explained that earlier. "He didn't promise anything to me. He just said he'd listen to you. You're not an idiot."

Emily's eyes burned a little again.

"Maybe I'm not an idiot, but I feel like one. I know you like to call the shots, and I know you boss all of us around and I also know you do it better than anyone, but I just need you to…" She searched hard for the right words again, trying to get a hold of that last feeling. "I need to feel like I'm your equal. I need you to try… to trust my… Whatever."

She gave up trying to find the right words, but maybe she couldn't find them because they just weren't there. She just wanted to have  _a chance_  at doing something without being taken care of or directed or overprotected.

"You  _are_  my equal", Spencer replied, not really understanding. "I wasn't protecting you, I was protecting  _us_."

Emily let out of frustrated sigh, but turned around to try look at her car. They were probably late already.

They couldn't miss Caleb's birthday.

Hanna didn't deserve all of this. Caleb didn't deserve it. It was the same Caleb who'd found her when she'd gotten drunk in that parking lot, in yet another one of her brightest moments.

"I gotta go now."

She moved away and retreated her hand.

"Em", Spencer called after her, walking in her direction. "Em, just… I don't treat you like a little child anymore."

She might have done it in the past. But she knew Emily was different now. She'd already realized before they got together, and every little thing she saw about Emily, every passing day, confirmed that impression.

But she was who she was.

And now she was anxious because she wanted to be forgiven, she wanted Emily's anger to be washed away. Already. Right now. Everything Go Back To Normal Now. Follow my orders, Day, Night and World.

And it just couldn't be.

Emily turned around upon hearing Spencer's words, only to find her really close as she approached her from behind.

They locked eyes in that meaningful way that was already there even before the kiss had happened, that was maybe the reason why the kiss had happened at all, and Emily's heart swelled again, this time more intensely, inside her chest.

Because she did love all of that about Spencer. Spencer called the shots and was never afraid of doing whatever she had to do. And she didn't realize, really, she didn't realize it when she was treating her like a child, or overprotecting her, or just not really trusting her judgment that much. Maybe rightly so. She hadn't really shone in her last decisions regarding A. She wasn't really intending to convince Wren before she decided to play the game he'd set for her, still focused on getting Aria to break in the hospital to steal, a plan that could easily go wrong, again; and it had still surprised her that he was giving her a chance. Well, he wasn't. He was giving it to Spencer. And there was nothing shocking about that, so she couldn't really act all that surprised. It was her own fault if she didn't really want to see things. It was her naiveté, the fact that she couldn't get rid of everything that made her be Emily and not really anyone else - not the person who would foresee things like these - not the person who would be prepared to catch up to Wren's game or to keep up with Spencer's pace at stealing documents without getting caught - she was _this_ person, and Spencer was another person, the person she _loved_.

She got a hold of Spencer's wrist and pulled her closer for a brief kiss, signalling it was all right, it would be, and Spencer looked stunned, even grateful when they broke it off.

"Were you ever gonna tell me about this?"

"No", Spencer answered breathily, still surprised at the kiss. "But I knew A would."

So she was facing the consequences.

That was another reason for Emily to love her still, to love her more, even if she wasn't going to tell her about her meeting with Wren at all, another sign of her individualistic, protective nature. They had A, after all, to shed a crude light on them.

A, who always forced them to face the consequences of their secrets and lies.

She had to go, anyway. 

"I'll call you later."

She pulled away, and Spencer let her go now. She walked back to the car without looking back. When she got in, she started the car without really saying anything to Hanna and drove as fast as she could back home, to try to avoid the punishment, at least for Hanna.

"Are we really late?", she asked halfway home.

Hanna sent her a sideways glance. "Just a couple minutes." Well, maybe it was more than ten minutes. "I texted my mom to tell her we were already driving back."

It'd happened like ten minutes ago, so at least she'd believe they'd been  _very_  slow at driving.

"I'll take the blame."

"I'll just tell her I was witness to a very romantic moment", Hanna sarcastically replied, mentioning the kiss she'd seen before Emily had come to the car, "and she'll end up crying of joy in the bathroom."

Emily sighed, not knowing what to say. She really hoped Ms. Marin would forgive them for the delay.

Hanna lifted her feet to the dashboard.

"So have you forgiven Spencer for whatever she did?"

"I…" Emily thought about it. "It's okay. I just… I wish you guys would stop treating me like I don't know how to do anything."

"Why am I being included in this sentence?", Hanna asked. "Whatever Spencer did, it's her fault, not mine. And I don't treat you like that. Both  _you_  and Spencer treat  _me_  like that. I should be the one yelling in the street and getting kissed after that."

"I don't treat you like that."

"You do."

"I don't." Emily tried to send a reassuring look to Hanna while driving. "You think I do?"

Apparently, every one of them had complaints about how they were being treated when it came to decisions in the group.

Hanna chuckled at the way Emily was starting to doubt herself.

"You do, but it's all right, I don't really care", Hanna finally said. Then she looked thoughtfully at Emily. "I'd never seen you so mad. I got really scared you were gonna break up with her or something."

Emily briefly returned Hanna's thoughtful look.

"Break up? No. I'd never break up with her."

Breaking up hadn't even crossed her mind.

Maybe only for a second did she actually think of the possibility that Spencer had done something really bad, something that she couldn't possibly forgive. Only for a second. Maybe even less than that, really. Maybe only for that instant when she saw everything red inside her head.

Breaking up wasn't an option. She wasn't so stupid as to give that much credit to her jealousy – or to Wren.

Her phone beeped.

"Can you read it?", Emily asked Hanna. It was Wren's turn after A.

Hanna took Emily's phone and read aloud. " _I'll do it. Call me tomorrow night_. That's great! He's gonna do it, Em."

Emily swallowed the lump in her throat at the disgust of knowing she'd have to owe this guy another favour.

"What?", Hanna asked, noticing Emily's frown and general unpleasantness. "Now we don't get happy about this?"

"You can get happy about it", Emily answered bitterly. "Spencer can get happy too. I'll just take some more time to be pissed at the whole thing."

Hanna didn't understand, so Emily told her briefly about the picture and the fight with Spencer. But she guessed she should be happy about it. It was the HGH results that mattered, not the little guy who wanted to steal her already-stolen girlfriend. She  _was_  the thief in the night, not him. He'd have to wait for his chance – with another girl. After he delivered the HGH copies to her, she was definitely done with him. She would thank him, of course. There was no other way. But Wren would be over after that. Because she wasn't giving up on becoming the best Emily Fields she could get to be, and the best Emily Fields included Spencer Hastings in the pack. And both Wren and A would suck that up. She'd find a way to do this, no matter what else happened or how many times she actually failed.

At the Hastings', Spencer slowly got back into bed, feeling wide awake at the same time and wondering if it was too early to call Emily already. Probably, it was. She barely had time to make it home by now. But Spencer wasn't good at waiting, she wasn't built for that. She always got too anxious when she had to wait, and she wondered, if she called, would she hear the same strain in Emily's voice, or would she sound normal already? Because, hell, she knew this was going to happen when she decided to call Wren, but she couldn't possibly figure Emily would get  _that_  mad, simply because… well, because Emily had never been that mad at all. Yes, Emily had a temper; a temper Spencer actually loved to see in motion, whenever it wasn't fully thrown back at her at least, like it'd been tonight. Even tonight, she had to say it to herself – she loved it. It made her weak in the knees; it was a true weakness, it was her Achilles' heel, it was her Samson's hair and her Kryptonite and what else. She loved feeling that way, knowing she could be weak – knowing it was still all right to feel weak like that, if it was because of Emily.

An equal.

There were all these things Emily did, and she didn't even realize Spencer was complying, bending her will to hers; and she did it gladly, because she liked it. It was true they engaged themselves from time to time in a battle for dominance, which generally was fought in harmony and bliss; not always, not this time, though. Spencer knew it wouldn't happen this time. No bliss, no glory was expected this time, since she'd had to act behind Emily's back. It was bad but she still did it, because sometimes, only sometimes, only whenever  _they_  were at stake (and also Hanna and Aria), the end justified the means. And she knew Emily understood why, even if it pissed her off. The only reason Emily was so opposed to her talking to Wren was jealousy. Spencer could understand that. She could understand jealousy. She could  _even_  understand  _this_  jealousy – about Wren. And, in a way, she was almost glad they'd met with him in separate spaces, because maybe, just maybe, if she did something wrong, just a little thing that was wrong or out of line, Emily would take it badly, maybe as badly as if she'd actually kissed Wren all over again, which would never happen again. But Emily was over-sensitive to the matter, as her reaction to the picture had shown, when she'd become all paranoid about the food and the drinks and her face. So it was better it'd happened this way, even if A had caused this new damage. Spencer was actually proud of herself because she had  _not_  flirted back, as bad as it sounded; it'd certainly sound better if she could say it had been easy for her; but it hadn't been easy, it had been actually hard, because she'd flirted with Wren ever since the very first time she laid eyes on him that night at her house, a long time ago, when he was still Melissa's boyfriend – or fiancé. They were both used to flirting, and then they had kissed. It was her who had to put a stop to it, and she  _did_  end it – but it hadn't been that easy to do it.

But who was Wren, if not a handy tool, a useful doctor now?

Who was Wren, as opposed to Emily?

No one stood a chance in front of Emily. What she felt now, her real, true feelings over this whole thing, it was just beyond comparison, because everything, everything paled away in front of Emily. Every aspect of her life, what she'd already lived through, her little, valuable fragments of experience in the process of growing up, went pale in front of her. Spencer still didn't know why or how it happened. Everything, from her disastrous family life to her brilliant academics to her restless search for A, from her already colorless love for Toby to her undeniable attraction to Wren, even the adrenaline that rushed through her veins when death had been right there, waiting for her, everything was nothing whenever confronted to Emily. It was nothing to a point it made her feel scared, scared that she didn't really care that much about anything else anymore, not even about her grades or about A (and she'd gotten so sloppy and slow in her detective work ever since she'd fallen in love); but she wasn't really that scared, because at the same time she could do everything now and still feel all right. It was an obsession. It was devotion, dedication: to wonder, to watch and touch and breathe every detail life had to offer to her. Life, meaning: life with her, next to her, even if it had to be lived in a constant fight against A.

Dedication.

Devotion.

Religion.

In Latin, it meant the reunion of everything separate. She wasn't religious - not in a true sense - not yet anyway, and it was a blasphemy, sacrilege, to think of Emily this way - but it wasn't even the first time. Sweet little Emily had grown to be  _this_  Emily who dominated  _life_  with a single glance from her mountain peak. Still she didn't realize it. Spencer wished Emily could see herself sometimes – from the outside. Maybe it was better this way, or else she'd probably fall in love with herself like Narcissus and all of them (Spencer too, sadly) would be sent away to the waiting line (and Spencer couldn't really stand waiting lines). But that wasn't possible for any of them; no one could do that, after all. No one could see themselves from the outside. Everyone had to rely both on inner feelings and on what the world, and especially your friends, if you were lucky enough to have them, saw. Emily had changed so much, but was still the same. She just didn't look like a deer trapped in headlights anymore but like a gazelle, running and turning and gaining every possible speed and strength. Emily, the gorgeous girl who only on special occasions flashed and showed control and power in the dark, on the bed, in the car. Oh, man, the bed and the car. Spencer wasn't afraid to acknowledge that sex had changed them. It'd brought them closer, if that was possible; yes, it was, it was possible. They could get closer, and closer still. They were still getting closer, the process never really ending. And getting closer was all that she'd ever wanted to do, either if it was through sex or through some other way, be a nice conversation or a silent stare or a nasty fight, a fight like  _this_  fight tonight. Somehow, in the crossfire, she loved that kind of closeness too: Emily's screams and doubts, Emily's questions, which she openly  _shared_  with her, not really afraid to show. That was all she ever wanted: to share all the information, to ride the wave of communication, to get  _close_ , even at that already distant time when she wasn't aware she could and would be able to get as close as to actually… sleep with this person. Not sleep: touch all the secret places, have sex, "make" love, have orgasms, that kind of stuff that still made her blush from time to time, whenever other people realized it in her. To be a part of the whole thing, if not actually  _the whole thing_ , in the process of becoming the persons they were still becoming; to become one and to merge, while they still remained. Were they already one? Could they ever be one, even when they fought about things they didn't like? Could she get inside of Emily's head and heart even more? Because that was all she ever wanted to do. She wanted to be at the pure center of it, in the eye of Emily's storm, regardless of how egotistical this might sound. But everybody knew Spencer Hastings had a big ego and great ambitions. She was both Caesar and Rome. So it was there, in the open, for everybody to see: she did want to be the reason, the center of Emily's life, because Emily was already the reason, the center of her life.

Man, she was smitten, whipped and dragged.

An equal.

Emily was more than an equal. More, because she was the reason why Spencer did things. Aria was an equal. Hanna was an equal. But Emily – she was just the reason she breathed and moved and got to be protective in the first place.

Sure, Emily had changed and grown stronger, but she was  _still_  Emily, and Emily was  _good_ , clean and noble, and cared too much; she'd probably been through too much self-deprecation at some point before coming out, even if she didn't really talk about it (Alison, are you there?). Shy in the streets. Sexy in the sheets. There were things Spencer couldn't totally discern yet. But, whatever the reasons, especially with all the pressure A was putting on them, especially with all the pressure Emily endured about the weakest link stuff, which still hurt her, as if caring too much about doing the right thing was a weakness and not a strength, especially with  _all_  of that, Emily needed protection and backup. And, no matter what, Spencer would be her backup, even if she didn't like it and protested about it; she'd be her parachute when Emily decided to jump; she'd be her highway too, the road to her future and to her dreams (and that was why the HGH results were important, for a start; that was why she'd called Wren; that was why the end justified the means). Spencer had to be all of these things or she was nothing. She just needed to be all of these things for her. She'd promised to take good care of her.

But she liked it so much.

She turned in bed again.

How much longer did she have to wait to make the call? Would Emily sound all right already?

She was wondering about it when a text came.

It was Wren: " _I'll do it. And I'm hoping for your eternal gratitude!_ W."

She felt a little annoyed. She had been clear when she spoke to him: there was only Emily, and nothing else, nothing else she cared about anymore.

She wrote back: " _Have you told her? You have my true gratitude_. S."

She hoped this was enough for him, because it was the only gratitude he'd get, and it wouldn't be eternal.

Another text came: " _I told her first. You're welcome. My birthday gift to you_. W."

So this meant Emily already knew about it and hadn't called. This caused an increase in her anxiety levels. Why hadn't she called? She'd said she would call. Was she still that mad? She didn't seem so mad anymore when she'd kissed her in the driveway.

She got up, went downstairs to the kitchen, drank water, walked up again.

Ants in her feet, in her shorts.

She wandered around her room. Pictures of them. That picture she'd taken in the park months ago, which Emily had kind of ignored when she sent it to her, because she was avoiding all that "weirdness" between them at that point.

Eyelashes in black and white colors, signalling all of Emily's dreams.

She would do anything for her.

She sat, phone in hand.

It was so late already. What if Emily decided to wait until tomorrow? That would kill her of anxiety. Maybe that was the punishment she deserved. But she had to wake up tomorrow really early again, to pick up the trash in the streets of Rosewood. Wasn't that enough of a punishment already? Couldn't she just get the call?

She slid slowly until she lied down on the bed, phone on her stomach.

Emily, call.

Follow my orders.

As if she would do that.

The minutes passed by while her mind tried to conjure some kind of universal energy that would finally make the phone sound.

Unsuccessfully.

Both Emily and the universe kept ignoring her orders and spells.

She was actually starting to fall asleep when she received another text. Emily, finally.

" _Are you still awake?_ "

Oh, come on. Of course she was awake. She couldn't take more time to wait so she called her the second she read the text.

Emily instantly picked up.

"Hey, you're awake."

"Yeah." Of course she was awake. Emily had to know she'd be awake. "You too."

A brief awkward silence followed.

Awkwardness: the price of her decision, of her parachute-actions, of all her previous kissing mistakes.

"Did you make it on time?", Spencer finally decided to ask. "Did Hanna get grounded?"

"We were late", Emily's sweet little voice sounded on the other end. "But I got Hanna out. I'm grounded on Saturday though, but at least tomorrow's Caleb's birthday party."

"Yeah, good." She was grounded on Saturday? Spencer was getting out of community service on Saturday. Damn. "So you're grounded on Saturday?"

"Yeah, sorry. Couldn't really help it."

Emily sounded let down too.

"I was just…" Spencer wondered if she should say it. "Since it's my last day of community service, I was just hoping we could go to my lake house to spend part of the weekend, if Hanna and Aria help with… you know, parent stuff."

She said it, but she wasn't sure it was the right moment.

She heard Emily take a moment to consider her words, and she wished she could see her face now to check if they were putting her off or cheering her up.

"It's… I can't go on Saturday", Emily finally said, "but maybe we can go on Sunday if that's all right."

Sunday was all right. It wasn't perfection, but it was all right.

"Sure." Something told Spencer to back down a little just in case. It was the bad part of not really seeing Emily's face. "I mean, if you want. Maybe it's not the best moment to ask."

She could swear she could hear Emily's  _smile_  through the phone line.

"No, it's fine, I really wanna go."

"Why are you smiling?"

"I'm not smiling."

"You are."

Now she could hear a distinct chuckle.

"I just think it's funny that you're asking me on a night like this, after we almost killed each other."

It was funny?

"Yeah, I'm funny like that", Spencer delivered sarcastically. "And anyway I didn't really try to kill you… It was the other way around. I just… It was my birthday, and it's the end of community service, and I just thought we could… you know, celebrate whatever before school starts again."

"I'm totally in for your lake house", Emily softly said, "don't worry."

Apparently, she had recovered her good humor. Then why had she taken so long to call?

Another silence followed, while Spencer wondered about Wren's message.

"So you're not mad at me anymore?", she finally went for it.

Emily sighed at the other end. "I'm not mad. I'm still a little… I don't know."

"A little I-don't-know? Is that why you took so long to call?"

"Yeah", Emily answered honestly. She paused a moment. "Wren texted me. He's doing it and wants me to call him tomorrow night."

Finally: Wren's text.

Now she just had to decide if she told her about her own text.

"I know. He texted me too."

She decided to be true, tired of keeping stupid secrets and little white lies that suddenly turned bloody red.

"Oh, okay", Emily answered, her voice already shifting to a colder tone. "So you know it's good news."

It didn't sound like good news.

The price of her decision: when good news meant bad news.

She didn't know what to say to her.

"Yeah."

"Spencer, I'm not mad anymore", Emily clarified. Spencer heard her chew on something. She was probably eating. "I'm just… It's what I said. I don't really wanna go over it again."

It being Spencer and Wren.

It being overprotection and too much backup.

The price of her decision.

"Yeah, it's all right", Spencer lied. "What are you eating?"

"Chocolate cookies", Emily answered. "I came down to the kitchen to talk to you and got hungry on the way."

Another silence. She'd better not be pushy. But she felt like being pushy again.

There was an inner struggle inside of her and someone was losing.

"Spencer", she heard Emily again. "Talk to me."

"Can I?", she asked, feeling helpless. "Can I talk to you?"

"We're talking."

Spencer sighed, recollecting her thoughts and energies.

"I don't treat you like a little child anymore", she said, picking up on her last sentence hours ago.

"I didn't say exactly that", Emily replied on the other end. "And anyway it's not totally your fault, it's probably not your fault at all. You just do whatever you do. And I try to do it too, I just… I need to feel like I can do things on my own, and this whole thing with Wren just… It was a total disaster for me. Like… the latest disaster for me." She paused and tried to change to a more optimistic tone. "But at least I'm getting the copies so that's good."

"It is good, and it wasn't a disaster for you, Emily."

"Spencer, you weren't there", Emily replied. "I would've said and done a whole different thing if I would've had all the information."

"But it worked, Em, that's what matters", Spencer argued her point.

"Yeah, I know that", Emily concluded, "now that I'm not mad."

There was another silence, but this time it didn't feel so awkward.

"You can do things on your own, Em", Spencer tried to assure. "I mean, as long as you're counting me in."

"That makes so much sense."

"It does make sense."

Emily's voice sounded firm after taking a second to consider. "I know."

"But?"

Wasn't there always a but?

"But let's just not talk about this anymore", Emily pleaded. "What were you doing before I texted you? Why weren't you sleeping? You have to wake up in, like, four hours."

Emily was also her parachute, her lifeguard, her backup.

Her highway to the future.

"I was just spinning around the room while I waited for your call."

She heard Emily chuckle again.

"Yeah, I can totally imagine that."

"So you were driving me crazy on purpose?"

"Not really", Emily replied, and again she could tell she was smiling. "First I was just convincing Hanna's mom to let Han free, and then trying to get over my bad feelings over Wren's text."

Only over that?

"So did you get over it already?"

"Yeah", Emily answered. "Although it doesn't help to know he's texting you too, but whatever."

"He won't do it anymore."

"Who cares?" Spencer heard the refrigerator door closing on Emily's side of the line. "I don't wanna talk about him. I really don't. I have to get over this… ugh. Whatever this is, I don't like feeling it."

"It's called jealousy", Spencer tried to joke and, at the same time, give it its real name. "I think you already know what it is."

"Yeah, that. I don't like it", Emily agreed almost sunnily, and Spencer smiled in return. "But you're the expert anyway, so you tell me. I don't really know how you can survive it."

Now Emily was trying to tease her.

Interesting. And appealing.

"I'm the expert? In what field exactly?"

Oh, she hoped to be the expert in only one  _field_.

"In every field", Emily contributed to the tease. "You do know everything, right?"

And just like that Spencer knew they were back on the right track, once again travelling through the bumpy road that was ahead of them. To the future.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by "Parachutes", the whole album and the miniature song by Coldplay.


	17. The Storm Outside, I

As soon as the door was closed with a slam and the blinds rolled up to let the light inside the room, allowing small fragments of dust to float and sparkle in the air, Spencer approached Emily, who was waiting by the door in the living room. She stood for a moment in front of her slightly taller figure and looked her in the eye asking for a permission for which she hadn't asked in months, the rumours and the snail traces of their recent fight still leaving that strange, awkward effect in them. They hadn't kissed all that much during the past three days. There had been a few kisses, a few touches too that left Spencer waiting for a sentence that never really came, because there was no final sentence for her, after all. Although she'd stopped wearing orange yesterday, now she was wearing orange inside her heart. But it was true Emily was not mad anymore. They still talked and smiled and even laughed like they did before the fight. There was only this feeling that screamed, inside of her sometimes oblivious head and her impatient heart, that something still needed to be fixed, and she was hoping to fix it today, away from the world and trapped inside this bubble of a day. So she stood there, and Emily looked back in silence, still and calm. A quiet, yet lively painting, a natural work of art. Decoding silence again, Spencer saw the mineral brilliance of a small laugh, shining deep and sort of bursting through Emily's eyes, a slight stir in the water of her eyes. Amusement. Probably a little mockery – at her doubts and fears and also at her hopes.

She might take that as a yes.

Spencer kissed her, slightly pushing Emily against the wall.

The paper bag Emily was carrying with some groceries fell to the floor, and her backpack stuck into her lower side, sending a slight stab of pain that mixed both with the surprise and the pleasure of the attack that trapped her body between the solid wall and Spencer's slowly increasing force.

They kissed indolently, their tongues crawling and playing for a while until the sting of the backpack in Emily's back grew uncomfortable enough and she had to stop to release the pressure.

"Aren't you being a little too aggressive?"

Her tone wasn't severe. The amusement showed in her voice, so Spencer cocked an eyebrow at Emily's breathy words as her only response. However, she immediately reduced the tension on her body.

"I thought you said you wanted to go for a walk and take pictures", Emily now explicitly teased, "and cook and…"

"We have the whole day for that", Spencer cut in, not really teasing, "and we never really get so many hours ahead of us to… you know, for us."

"You mean for sex?"

Spencer instantly smiled at Emily's straightforwardness, which only translated hers into words.

Should she make it a secret? Was she being too aggressive? Should they go for a stroll, for a swim, should they organize the house and clean the kitchen before sleeping together?

Was that the best way to fix this?

But Emily  _was_  amused. At least she could tell that.

"Yeah", Spencer agreed, deciding to be blunt about it. "I like the idea of morning sex."

Man, the idea of morning sex made her heart and her head spin in circles.

It was a beautiful end-of-summer day, breezy yet sunny, but it was still morning. Mid-morning, at least. And they had  _never_  enjoyed morning sex. Actually, they had barely enjoyed night-time sex, which was what she missed the most. But, since they couldn't spend the whole weekend at the lake house, she had to content herself with this idea of fake mid-morning sex. In case it actually got to happen at all.

Emily smiled wryly.

"I think you only have morning sex when you actually get to sleep next to the person."

So now Emily was about definitions too? Or else she was reading Spencer's mind, because, indeed, it wouldn't exactly qualify as morning sex, only as a poor (well, hopefully not too poor) substitute of it.

In case it ever got to happen at all.

Spencer separated some more, and the backpack's attack on Emily's side completely stopped.

"Well, we can go sleep for twenty minutes if you want."

Emily chuckled at Spencer's dry joke.

"Only for twenty minutes?", she joked back. "I'd rather sleep for two hours, you made me get up so early."

As every time they had some kind of daytrip planned, Spencer was ruthless about the time schedules, while Emily… well, she enjoyed sleeping in whenever she didn't have to worry about exams and people getting murdered and blackmailed.

However, now Emily made sure to grab Spencer's waist to bring her closer, close enough to examine her face. There, in the warm, luminous shade of brown of her eyes, she could still catch a tiny hint of insecurity and fear. Because of their fight, feelings were still a little sore, not only  _her_  feelings; Spencer's too, because she seemed to be walking on eggshells part of the time when she was around her. All that talk about spending the day in the lake, swimming and hiking and watching the birds fly and sing, it was just bullshit and Emily knew it perfectly. Well, maybe it'd happen later, but not now for sure. Anyway she wanted it too. She really wanted it too, no matter how pissed she'd been at the Wren incident four days ago.

Whatever the trouble they faced, she couldn't really resist Spencer. She couldn't really resist Spencer's tiny flashes of insecurity and fear when she was looking at her with that fixated, intense gaze that made her feel like the words in a book, studied and memorized and broken down to get the A+ tomorrow; like she was just another AP class, or not just another one, maybe the most advanced of all. And she couldn't really resist the shade of soft hazel brown when the sun was hitting her eyes through the window, forcing her to squint a little while trying so hard to read the emotions showing on her own face. It was too adorable and she couldn't really resist anything. Not that she was going to try, anyway. She'd already put Wren behind, she had the HGH copies, and they'd hardly made out during the last days because of different circumstances, one of them being, yes, that she'd been punishing her a little. Well, maybe not really punishing her, though; only trying to move on and get past it and forget about all those times she still wanted to strangle her for doing whatever she wanted, for being individualistic and tricky and overprotective, and also too flirty, and too sexy too, and a lawyer's daughter. Two lawyers, actually. For being all of those things at once, sometimes even more than that.

Take her or leave her. Well, she wasn't leaving her, that was clear as day; had always been that way. So she'd better take her and learn to deal with her in this new way.

Take her now… as in really take her. As in morning-sexually take her.

The somewhat obnoxious image gave her goose bumps and made her blush a little at the same time, because, yes, sex was in her mind too. Because, yes, it was Spencer's lake house. And Spencer's lake house might have meant secret parties and sleepovers and experimenting with a little alcohol and truth-or-dare games a while ago, but right now the lake house meant sex. Hours for sex. A whole day for sex. Screw the birds and the trees and the warm and noisy water splash a body makes when falling from the board Spencer's dad ordered to build some years ago. Screw the hasty feeling of the summer ending, with its slowly decaying brightness and warmth. Not that she minded playing a little hard to get right now, but, in a way, she was also suffering through the sore punishment of not making out for a few days.

Inspired by this (sexual) resolution, Emily initiated the second lip-on-lip attack until her back and her side stung again with the pressure, so she gently grabbed Spencer and pushed her away from the wall. Through it all, she could feel Spencer's relief as they kissed, in the way she first sighed and then smiled inside her mouth, while they stumbled across the room without breaking the kiss. They walked together in an embrace until they came up against something, which ended up being a somewhat old and flowery couch against which Spencer was now pushed, making her body waver a little between the supporting couch and the floating, dusty air.

It was Spencer who broke the kiss this time.

"No, no, not here", Spencer blurted, trying to support herself on the couch's back. "It's my nana's couch."

Emily pulled away as if she'd been touched by liquid nitrogen.

"Oh, sorry."

Before she could finish her apology, Spencer dragged her away across the room and opened the door to one of the bedrooms. Probably Spencer's because there was a frame where both Spencer and Melissa were widely smiling on a summer day years ago and, despite her rivalry with Melissa, she was still fond enough of that relationship to have a frame that reminded her of it, no matter what she publicly said about it. However, Emily's musings on Spencer's sisterhood feelings couldn't really stand for longer, since she was pushed against the wall and kissed once again, now hungrily and indeed more passionately, as if the sight of a bed had already changed the tune, making them reach a higher level of intensity.

Passion. Her back against the wall was a good indication of it. And anyway she'd lost the backpack at some point on the way to the bedroom.

But it was on both sides, so she grabbed Spencer's waist tightly and pulled her closer, making a pause to try to look her in the eye again, not really catching hazel this time because the room was still too dark. And, since she couldn't really see it, when Spencer looked back at her, she had to trust her other senses now, and they got involved in another hungry kiss until Emily slowly started to sneak her fingers under Spencer's long, loose summer T, the process of undressing and taking clothes off initiated.

The click.

Spencer got a hold of Emily's hands.

"No", she denied softly. "You don't do your killer moves today."

Emily's frown furrowed in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"I wanna go first", Spencer explained, while she held Emily's hands and forced them behind her ass, against the wall. "You're always going first."

"Going first?" Emily raised her own brow now. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Basically, it means I wanna get better."

It meant she wanted to be the click today. She wanted to make the click sound. They had time, they had hours, they had the whole day ahead of them. They had a bubble in time and space and it was the perfect situation for her to finally get really good and… well, she'd still be easy, but it was her moment to discover Emily could be  _that_  easy too.

She felt prepared.

And she felt it was the right thing to do, because it could be a good way to fix things between them. At least, in a sense, in a sexual sense, which might be a restricted sense but was  _still_  important, she owed it to Emily. And she owed it to herself too. She  _had_  to get better.

Emily seemed stunned for a moment, then relaxed when she realized this was the same battle fought for perfection that always took over Spencer's soul.

"You can go first if you want, whatever that means", she said, "but that doesn't mean I can't move my hands."

Her hands were still tightly tied behind her ass.

"No", Spencer repeated, holding Emily's hands with hers, "you can't."

She didn't trust Emily's hands. A single move and she'd be dead on the floor, or rather on the bed, back to Emily's clicking bells.

"Are you trying to say I can't move while we have sex?"

"Yeah."

"No", Emily denied now, unsuccessfully trying to move her hands a little. She didn't try too hard, though. This was somehow adorable, and somehow hot too. In a weird way. "I don't like the idea." She paused, trying to grasp whatever was on Spencer's crazy mind. "I thought you liked them… my moves."

Spencer smiled a twisted smile now and leaned in to whisper in Emily's ear.

"I do", she murmured. "I really do, but I really need to show you I can get better at this."

"You don't need to show me anything", Emily said, relieved that was all the problem. "You're good already. You're good to me."

"Well, thanks, but I still wanna be the best."

Oh, the best.

Spencer Hastings full mode.

"Are you trying to compete with me?", Emily softly teased. "This is a two people thing, Spence, but now you just wanna get better than me. Is that it?"

Spencer leaned in again.

"No, cause nobody can be better than you", she huskily whispered into Emily's ear, sending an electric wave all over her body. "I just don't wanna fall behind."

"I wouldn't worry about that", Emily whispered back, "cause I won't leave you behind."

Spencer separated her face a little and inspected Emily.

"Are you scared?", she asked, releasing one hand to be able to touch Emily's forehead and left brow. "Am I that bad?"

Emily wondered how she could be both so adorable and hot at the same time.

"You don't scare me at all", she assured, "but I still wanna move my hands."

She pouted, and Spencer laughed now.

"I'll let you touch my face."

"Oh, your face", Emily rolled her eyes mockingly, but immediately moved her free hand to Spencer's face and stroke her jaw line, starting to close the distance when her hand moved to the back of her neck. "That's a great thing, thank you."

They looked into each other's darkened eyes, and Spencer leaned in again. Instead of murmuring a response into Emily's ear, she just went for a continuation of the kiss, releasing Emily's other hand so she could be the one to start the process of undressing her. Slowly, while they were still kissing, she pulled Emily's T up, breaking the kiss only to take it off. Their foreheads touched as Spencer looked down at Emily's dark, curvy body, letting her hands walk to Emily's back, where they unhooked Emily's green bra. Her skin was burning at the touch of her hand, and she felt dismayed and dizzy yet once again, much like it happened to her every time. But she held it together, a true hero, as their lips and their tongues reconnected and played their slow-motioned dance, all traces of anxiety gone. Long hours ahead of them, like an open highway; no need to rush. A rhythm was progressively conquering both of their bodies, although now it was at her own demand. Finally, she could sort of understand what she was doing, taking her time, and when her mouth travelled south, first to Emily's neck and shoulder and then further down to her breasts, it was Emily who had to hold it together and struggle to paralyze her hands. This game was sort of hot, in that weird, obsessive way that was typical of Spencer's plans and schemes, but it was also torture, and the torture only increased its burning pain when Spencer's hands reached Emily's denim skirt and carefully unbuttoned it, letting it fall down to the floor without really wandering underneath; without even allowing a slight, faint touch to happen in forbidden territory (for everybody else, but not for Spencer Hastings after all her chaotic, savage mistakes). Not yet, at least. Not now.

Their foreheads touched again as Spencer broke the kiss to look down once again, suddenly impressed at her own skills and self-control. They breathed each other's warm, heavy breaths while Spencer felt Emily's muscles tense up at the tease of her hand down her lower stomach and the small of her back, near her butt.

She raised her eyes and Emily looked back, all dark and flustered.

"Aren't you gonna get naked?", she murmured when their eyes met. "Or is it part of the game?"

Spencer considered the question for an instant. Her getting naked would mean a greater danger of losing control, thus of losing this chance to win the game and improve her skills.

But it was only fair.

Holding Emily's gaze, she pushed down and let go of her leggings first, mastering the art of balance and equilibrium like the classy girl she was. Then she took off her own loose T-shirt.

Emily stared at Spencer's suddenly unreachable skin, swallowed saliva and then directed her eyes at her bra, so Spencer had no other choice but to unhook it too.

Here they were now, standing on equal footing.

Not exactly, though. Emily confirmed the disadvantage when Spencer approached her own feverish body to hers, skin against skin, only to continue the torturing tease to which she couldn't really respond in any way which wasn't a kiss, a sigh or a moan; or a touch of the face or the neck. So she let the air out of her lungs while her disadvantaged hands brought Spencer's face closer to deepen the enduring, intermittent kiss.

This game might be hot, but holding the power was hotter, and Emily wanted it back.

A moan escaped her lips when Spencer's fingers finally reached her panties.

Well, hadn't Emily said she wouldn't like this idea? Apparently, not only her throat but also her panties said otherwise. They did seem to be enjoying the game quite a lot.

As a result, an immediate smile twitched Spencer's lips, and she had to break the kiss off, pride and arrogance shining in her eyes.

Oh, she  _was_  going to be the best at this game, the same way she nailed every game, every single task she focused on. It was about time already. It was about freaking time, because there had to be a way to handle Emily the way she knew how to handle her, even if it cost her more time to learn how to do it.

Even if it was at the cost of preventing Emily from moving, really.

There  _had_  to be a way.

This was the way, and the assault of knowledge made her feel dizzy once again, her stomach and her head starting to whirl and twirl like crazy.

Go, Spencer, go. Don't lose it now. Don't be fooled into thinking you're already getting it, because you're not.

There's still a long road ahead of you.

Long hours, long, steady dark hours away from the world. Don't burst the bubble now, make it last, make it good.

She reinitiated the kiss more hungrily than ever, trying not to ruin her achievements with this sudden impulse to self-applause. Emily kissed back hungrily too, the logical, natural response to her attack, and they engaged in it for what seemed like forever until Spencer decided on another move. She grabbed Emily tightly and drove her away from the wall towards her lake-house study table (she had a study table in every single house her family owned), against which she pushed her now.

Emily shot her a surprised glance, her sleepy, bedroom eyes suddenly opening wide.

"And the bed?", Emily managed to ask in between kisses.

"You can't speak either", Spencer grunted, because she wasn't going to take any orders now.

Emily smiled in that kind of amused manner she was smiling today, but shut up her mouth and then literally gasped when Spencer pulled her legs up on the table in order to take her panties off. Truly naked now, her whole body pulsated and throbbed with desire and anticipation, and Spencer made a pause to contemplate the work of art, the killing Fields dead on her hands, a fierce, determined expression that softened the instant she understood the vision in front of her eyes.

Go for it.

Bending her own body down, almost kneeling in a resolute move, she buried her face between Emily's legs, into the forbidden territory that she owned now for herself. Emily let out a surprised cry and tried to keep her balance against the table, one hand on the surface and the other one trying to reach Spencer's body. But her efforts failed when Spencer placed one of her legs over her shoulder to get into a more comfortable position and Emily just had to support herself with both hands on the table and against the wall.

It wasn't the first time it happened.

Spencer still didn't totally know what to do and still didn't know if she liked doing it. It was a mystery, but Emily was good at it ever since the first time, and just kept getting better and better, over and over; and, god, did she love it. And that meant she had to be good too, not because it was a competition but basically because Spencer just  _had_ to have the same effect on her. She couldn't be either fussy or clumsy about this serious sexual activity anymore. She had to go for it and nail it like she was nailing everything else in life… well, mostly everything.

Her tongue tasted the slightly sour, salty flavour while her hands held Emily's legs to prevent them from jerking. Still, her muscles contracted and tensed on the leg Spencer held over her shoulder, and she embraced it with her arm and caressed it with her fingers both to relax her and to create a mixture of sensations that would feel right, that would drive wild. The way she'd learned every time Emily did it to her – with care and obvious fervour.

Combining fervour with care was the real tricky thing here.

A mystery.

Timid at first, her tongue advanced and ventured furthered down the territory, softly exploring and invading it without force.

A pang of pain struck the base of her neck and her back. This was a bad posture.

And her knees were starting to hurt too.

The bed.

Damn. Emily was right. One point less for Spencer.

She stood up, releasing Emily's leg while her muscles stretched. The sight of Emily sitting, struggling on the table, her lips parted in want and surprise at the sudden stop, made her feel the intensity of her own desire sending waves and curls all over her stomach and her legs. But there was no time for contemplation as Emily moved to hold her in a hungry embrace. Apparently, she'd already forgotten the prohibition to use her hands on anything that wasn't her face. But she was dead for her already, so Spencer used the embrace to pull her from the table against which she had thrown her some minutes earlier and to drive her to the bed on which they both fell, their bodies lit up, trembling leaves of sweat and fever.

"I told you."

Emily's voice shivered, small and low at the same time.

"And I told you not to speak", Spencer reminded, shooting her a commanding glance, although her own voice sounded raspy and weak.

They kissed heavily again, and Emily held her by the shoulders, making Spencer feel the danger in her mouth. A change of position, a slight interruption might mean the end of her winning power game, and she couldn't really allow that.

She just had to reignite the whole thing.

Fortunately, she had landed on top so it was easier to claim the power back. With a touch of her hand and a little force, she disentangled herself from Emily's embrace and kiss and made the trip down again, her long, wavy hair tickling and brushing Emily's trembling skin along the way.

Switch the machine on.

The sex machine on, the love machine on.

She might be losing some points already.

Her lips teased Emily's inner thighs, teeth and tongue grazing and sucking the fitness of her muscles, insisting on the torture before her tongue took up and reached direct contact again. Timidly, softly, gently again, but still not too timidly, in fear of losing the rhythm and the craving she'd so slowly and masterfully built up, Spencer tried to remember her lessons. Emily's lessons, Emily's orders, Emily's subtle indications, Emily's little ways and sudden killer moves. Emily, who seemed to know every secret about how to do this without fear, without shame.

Emily's throat let out a deep, encouraging moan.

The machine was on.

Never look back, Spencer, never take anything back. Go for it with all you have.

Look back.

Light hit her head and she grabbed Emily's ass and legs with her arms, initiating a movement to turn both of them over until Emily was on top and it was her who was lying on her back. She had a lot of access from this angle, so it was definitely a good idea, no matter how many changes and shifts of positions she'd already tried. This was the one.

She pulled Emily's glorious ass upwards, bringing her closer to her face.

Emily seemed surprised when she looked down at her from her new position, even though she'd allowed Spencer to carry her there, letting herself be driven through this new change of the game.

She was already too turned on to deny obedience.

"What are you doing?"

She had to ask the question, however, and her own faint voice sounded strange to her.

Spencer lifted her head and licked to show Emily exactly what she was doing. It was more than a tease but less than a feverous performance, although the action was perfectly understood and Emily trembled and moaned again, her eyes open wide while she looked down at Spencer, who was holding her gaze.

Oh, this was a brilliant idea. She could actually  _see_  her. She could actually taste, touch, hear and  _see_  every effect her mouth had on her.

Man, she was really the best when she actually made the effort and put herself to it.

"Sit on me", Spencer asked.

But Emily hesitated, despite her obvious, urgent need, so Spencer demonstrated again with yet another smooth lick of her tongue in order to impose her will.

This time Emily pushed and sort of rubbed a little against her mouth, though, unable to really resist it much longer, her hands reaching for Spencer's face and hair.

Every war was made of small victories.

"Sit."

"You won't breathe."

Emily's small voice showed a slight trace of real concern hidden between layers and layers of enduring, torturing arousal at the constantly interrupted tease.

"Emily, do it."

Spencer enveloped Emily's thighs with her arms and pushed down with enough force to make Emily comply, her actions accompanying the command of her voice.

She was too turned on now to admit a defeat.

She was really winning the game. Seriously. For real.

For the first time.

So Emily complied. Sort of.

She lowered her body a little so Spencer wouldn't have to lift her head, her legs trembling with the effort of holding up but also with an anticipation she couldn't really put off any longer.

It didn't matter. It was just a question of time and skill.

It was painted all over her face.

And Spencer knew what it meant.

Therefore, leaving aside all timidity, she allowed fervour and care to take over. Her tongue, her lips and her nose worked in unison with dirty, obscene grace, sliding up and down, roaming around Emily's sex sometimes with firm accuracy, sometimes with idle, lazy yield, taking advantage of the new angle, making space - until the work of circles and slides paid off when the liquid taste completely filled her mouth, a rich and tasty sign she was actually starting to savor in its plain, sheer purity and depth. Did you all know our word _culture_  is originally linked to the agricultural field, laboring the earth, days and nights passing, the earth giving its fruits to the laborers, did you know that the word _culture_  originally means to honor, to adore - to _care_ \- it even shares the same etymological roots -  _roots_ planted, _seeds_ planted like Emily and herself?

Work paid off.

Spencer opened her eyes and  _saw_  Emily looking back at her through heavy-lidded eyes, so obviously aroused by the situation that the look on her face only motivated her to go for more, to make the best out of it.

A groan escaped her own throat as her tongue thrust inside Emily's core to have actual, by-the-book sex.

It was actually good.

It was actually better than reading a book.

Emily's legs contracted intensely at the new, unexpected move of her tongue, forcing Spencer to use her hands to hold her tight and at the same time to push her down, grinding her against her. This time Emily pushed down too and pressed, eager to extend and deepen the sensation, her willpower and resistance already lost to the world of the living. Spencer heard her heavy pants and her cry, the slow rhythm of her orgasm building against her tongue as she thrust inside, then as she let it out to suck and tease again when Emily moved to allow it before returning, coming around and around and around until Emily came around in her mouth and the series of final cries and shivers conquered the air around them, crumpling the sheets where they were lying down.

She liked winning.

And she loved, loved, loved winning Emily over to her cause, to the cause of best-girlfriend-ever Spencer Hastings, no matter how many parachutes she decided to provide, no matter how sometimes she seemed to do more wrong than right. No matter how inadequate she knew she was sometimes, only sometimes, when the fears of losing the fight against the world, against A, led her to do things that might not be shared by Emily or by the other people about whom she cared. No matter how clumsy she'd been other times, how easy she actually was every time when it was for Emily, every time.

Emily.

The killer Fields, dead in her mouth.

Hanna was right. Oral sex was not gross. It was just sex.

Awesome sex, actually.

Ew, wrong mental image. It was weird to think of Hanna now. Latin was much better.

She let the thoughts go as she wiped her face against Emily's thighs and then on her stomach, once Emily let her body fall by her side on the bed, exhausted but still in shivers. Her eyes were shut and her breathing heavy, her chest rising and lowering with every breath.

Flames and sweat covered her cheeks and her forehead.

She was hers.

Yes, she was hers, there was no doubt.

Spencer touched Emily's neck, looking for the pulsating point of the carotid artery, which was still beating wildly, and softly moved to kiss Emily's shoulder so her presence would be again noted. Emily slowly opened her eyes, heavy lids, heavy breaths, heavy lashes too, the pure, deep look of sex.

Awesome sex as finally provided by Spencer Hastings, present.

Emily smiled her sweet after-sex smile, which was different from every other sweet smile Emily had to offer to anyone else, and took a moment to recover before speaking.

"A+."

That was all she said to accompany her smile. A flash of mischief lightened up her face, reuniting with the post-sexual flames, and Spencer smiled in return, somehow delighted at the (wrong) idea of being graded like this.

"I think it's more of an A."

She could still get better.

Emily rolled over on her side to face her directly.

"No, it's definitely an A+, trust me", she smirked. "I should know."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Emily finally closed the distance between their lips. After some slow kissing, Spencer moved her head to whisper into Emily's ear.

"I think this is the first time I get everything right." Well, almost everything. "I'm the best. I own the game and I know all of your tricks."

Emily smiled at the words, because she could perfectly detect Spencer's moments of self-assurance and pride along the way. As a response, however, her hand reached Spencer's ass in order to even out the underwear situation, but Spencer's own hand stopped her.

"Say it."

Emily looked right at Spencer, her eyes sparkling again.

"You own the game and you know all of my tricks", she finally said, giving up on the suspenseful tease. "And now you just have to get naked for real."

She didn't want to keep waiting. She didn't want any more suspense. She needed to do stuff. She was  _dying_  to do stuff because it'd been torture to play this sweet, wicked game of paralysis and sudden changes of positions.

Spencer didn't answer, but allowed her hand to slowly retreat.

Emily's hands, however, worked a little more hastily than it was usual while trying to slip Spencer's panties down, so she stopped halfway to ask for collaboration.

"Spence, I'm dying here, help me."

It wasn't so often that Emily was the anxious one. And, besides, if someone was dying, it was Spencer, who was actually… burning up like a cake rising and growing in the oven. The slow kisses a moment ago almost gave her a heart attack… or a lower-stomach, leg-to-toe attack, to be precise.

But she tried to play it cool.

"You can't be dying here, I just made you happy", she answered, lying on her elbow, "and anyway you're not supposed to move until I say so."

Emily frowned, but caught the tease in Spencer's voice.

"Really?", Emily asked. "Well, can I move now?"

Without waiting for an answer, she shut Spencer's response down with another kiss, and this time she made sure to make it deep and long enough. When Spencer moved her leg to try to climb and entangle Emily's body again, Emily took advantage of the chance and lifted Spencer's ass to slowly continue pushing her panties down, to a point where Spencer herself had to break the kiss to take them off.

Now she had her where she wanted.

After giving up on her game, Spencer simply continued the movement and gained her position on top, straddling on Emily's bare abdomen.

A stare followed, heavy on the meaning because Emily could feel the wetness staining her stomach, exactly as she was expecting when she tried to wholly undress Spencer. She was so sure Spencer would not disappoint.

Especially not after the slow torture that had taken place.

"Can I touch or not?"

Her voice suddenly sounded hoarse at the dizzying sensation on her stomach, but Spencer, again, didn't answer and just stared back.

She bit her lower lip, though.

She looked down a little and sighed before looking back.

Sexy as hell.

Sexy as burning-in-flames hell.

Emily wouldn't mind being burned alive if hell meant she could forever enjoy this sight.

She sneaked her hand between her own abdomen and Spencer's body, instantly touching the wetness, and Spencer closed her eyes slowly and moved a little to allow for Emily's mobility.

Oh, so now she wanted her to do a killer move?

Killer move be it.

She was so wet Emily slipped one finger inside without really thinking about any previous stimulation, and so Spencer gasped in surprise and opened her eyes wide.

Was that too much of a killing?

Emily didn't think so and she held Spencer's gaze forever in defiance, enjoying, once again, the alluring, seductive surprise on her face, the way she always did, the way it always worked with her. Then she curled her finger and pushed until Spencer moaned and grunted in pleasure. She thought the victim could pretty much be instantly killed, but she wanted to make it last, to hunt her down until she found her and got her out of her secret burrow – to tease and torture, exactly as she'd been forced to endure during the last minutes, hours, days and nights of her day… How long had it been since they arrived to this room? Emily didn't even have a sense of time anymore, confined in the dark space of mid-morning sex. It could be mid-afternoon sex already for all she knew.

The sun could keep on shining outside, the lake still and calm. A summer storm could be starting to form, unleashing its heavenly forces up in the mountains, drops drizzling before pouring down on the lake, meshing up, confusing the earth and the sky, right now, outside.

Clouds could be dying the blue, for all she knew and cared.

Autumn could be catching up with them, forcing the leaves to colour up in red and brown before falling off the trees.

A crescent moon already forging sunset, closing up the day, but they were chained to this room.

Forever chained to this sight.

She slipped another finger inside, feeling light-headed and heavy on desire, and this time Spencer gaped, her mouth drawn in an oval that allowed Emily to see the perfect little front teeth hidden behind the thinner upper lip.

Spencer frowned, then let out a small cry.

Bold moves, killer moves. Maybe she was too much of a killer. Maybe she was too anxious and wanted to hunt Spencer down too badly because… well, just because. No reason.

Because who wouldn't want Spencer badly anyway?

And because she was used to going first.

But wanting things too badly never led to good things.

Emily sensed Spencer freeze, growing increasingly tight. They had already done this, but never in this position, so Emily felt an urgent need to get close and struggled to sit up. Without slipping any of her fingers out, she managed the change of position and wrapped Spencer with her free arm, leaning into her to whisper up to her mouth.

"Does it bother you?"

Spencer was grateful for the sudden embrace, although she was still frowning.

"No." Her weakest voice came out of her throat. "Just a little."

Emily frowned too in response, starting to feel slightly guilty about the hunt-down and her apparently forceful desire.

Another hunt-down strategy was needed, because her killer moves were actually killing  _the_  mood.

Her fingers moved and started to shy away, but Spencer grabbed her forearm firmly.

"No", she said weakly again. "Go on."

"Are you sure?", Emily asked, concerned this wasn't really a good idea anymore. "I mean, you're obviously not enjoying this right now."

Spencer looked at her with a warm, yet naughty expression.

"I said go on."

Instead of letting go of Emily's forearm, she slowly squeezed and pulled closer.

That goddamn dizzying feeling that was making Emily behave bolder than she should started to spin in her head again, and she flowed with the move Spencer had both approved of and encouraged. Her fingers slowly thrust, pushing very slightly, and curled inside of her to reduce the impact of the invasion. Spencer grunted loudly again, her forehead still wrinkled and sweaty at the sensation, and searched for Emily's mouth. They kissed deeply while Emily felt Spencer's sharp breathing inside her mouth and, just when she was starting to get worried again, the sense of a humid, welcoming smoothness returned. Thanking all the divine powers, or just their own human weakness and vice, she tried to manoeuvre slowly in order to explore, but the sitting position didn't allow for much and Emily let her body fall on her back once more.

And there she saw the sight again.

Her own body trembled, and her two fingers pressed further and thrust more aggressively in response, making Spencer cry out at the shift of force.

Spencer locked eyes with her, fire pouring out of her body and her eyes.

Was she pissed? Was she horny?

Did she really want this?

But no, not really. There was nothing scary about Spencer. Not for Emily. There was only pure sexiness, amazing, spin-head-inducing sexiness and hotness and also warmth.

"Help me here", Emily requested again, not really knowing what she actually meant.

Spencer leaned forward a little, pressing Emily's fit, curvy abs with her hands. Then she slightly rocked against Emily's hand, and she had to close her eyes again when the intense sensation hit her and made her shudder once more as if her body was just an innocent leaf blown by the wind and then set in fire to slowly burn under the sun or at the spark of a match. Emily's sun, Emily's sparkling match. Emily's increasingly darkening, consuming eyes.

Or maybe not so slowly.

She shuddered more intensely now, as her body increased the rocking rhythm.

Emily took that as a green light, her fingers ready to explore and reach into the thrusting movement Spencer was initiating, and they danced together in this position, a progressive, regular rhythm building up that gained speed when Emily stretched her fingers, trying to move them as much as the position allowed. Which wasn't much, after all. She basically depended on Spencer's movements and decisions so, when Spencer's hands reached out for Emily's body until her fingers touched her face, stopping to slightly press Emily's full lips and searching inside for her teeth, Emily bit the index finger gently in a responsive, harmonious flow of moves.

Spencer lips twitched up a little in a slight smile, and Emily bit now somewhat harder.

Another intense, fiery gaze followed.

"Emily."

Spencer's throaty voice sounded both as a stuttering, babbling plead and a command, and Emily wondered if she was going to be scolded.

"Yeah?"

"Emily", Spencer strained to repeat, breathing sharply. "Kiss me."

She wanted her to sit up again, but Emily didn't. She just smiled knowingly while her fingers pressed harder inside, a move that achieved what she was looking for: another surprised glance, followed by a deep, enduring, broken moan.

Killers kill their prey, don't they?

Then she fought to sit up again, helping herself on her one free hand. Losing the sight, she gained Spencer's lower lip and, even before properly responding to the kiss Spencer was trying to initiate, she sucked and bit sweetly on it. Almost there, Emily made a last effort to move in order to have the mobility she was lacking. Spencer's body leaned slightly to one side, allowing Emily to increase the speed and the force with which her fingers worked inside. Breaking off the kiss, she buried her face down Spencer's hair, smelling and biting her neck like crazy, and Spencer cursed for the first time ever since they started having sex, which was weird but somehow motivating, in a sense.

That bitten, dripped-against-teeth, metallic curse meant everything it had to mean.

Spencer bit Emily's earlobe in an erratic, abrupt last effort to foolishly retaliate before collapsing, all body sounds clear and loud in Emily's ear.

All sounds clear and loud.

Spencer made sure of that. She wanted Emily to hear that.

They embraced each other until the effects of the collapsing orgasm started to fade away. Once Spencer recovered her voice, she whispered into Emily's ear again.

"I love you."

She wanted Emily to hear that too.

Emily moved to stare back at her and smiled that self-satisfied, shy-and-innocent smirk she was the one person on earth to smile without looking like an arrogant, stupid asshole. It was actually the sexiest thing, and Spencer only felt her love grow every time it was directed at her.

"You know", Emily started to say, leaning down on her back again, too tired to maintain her sitting position and too eager to recover a more global sight of Spencer, "you're not supposed to say that kind of thing during or after sex."

Spencer raised her brows and let her body slowly fall on Emily's side.

"And why's that?"

Then she breathed against Emily's ear again.

"I might just believe it", Emily joked.

She brushed away one sticky wave of hair out of Spencer's sweaty forehead.

"Well, you better believe it already, it's not like it's the first time I say the words."

"It's the first time you say them after cursing."

Emily laughed, observing the red colours creep out to Spencer's already luminous pink skin.

"You bitch", Spencer replied softly, and tried to pat Emily's cheek. "You're not supposed to use that kind of information to make fun of me. Fuck you."

The metallic curse word sounded now soft and sweet.

"Again?"

Another, harder fake slap followed.

Then Emily inspected Spencer's face, allowing all her warmth and adoration to flow through her eyes.

Oh, the sight.

"You look beautiful."

"Is that your way of saying you love me too?"

Spencer tried to sound sarcastic, but exhaustion and love just made her sound happy.

"Yeah."

They stayed in that position for a while until Spencer rolled over, face down the covers. Her breathing evened out in a regular sound, and Emily thought she'd fallen asleep. No wonder.

But she wasn't sleepy.

She was hungry.

So she carefully, silently got up, put on Spencer's loose T, which was what she could actually find somewhere near the bed, and initiated her walk to the kitchen. Well, not exactly to the kitchen; it was more likely she'd find something to eat in the paper bag she'd dropped how many minutes or hours or days or summers ago in the living room.

When she was already close to the bedroom door, she heard Spencer's sleepy voice behind her.

"Don't go."

"I'm just going to grab something to eat. I'm hungry."

"Me too", Spencer sighed.

"I'll bring you something."

Spencer looked back at her, eyes hardly visible in the dark. But Emily could sense the intensity of her gaze.

"Hurry up."

Emily lingered a little on the feeling of Spencer's body before opening the door that allowed the light of day to finally break in the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Crossfire", song by Brandon Flowers.


	18. The Storm Outside, II

Peeking out of the window in the living room to catch a sight of the day, Emily saw there were no clouds in the horizon.

The day was still beautiful and the sun was still shining. Yes, there was a slow, gentle breeze that kept moving the leaves in the trees, but it was still a light, clear summer day. Good. Maybe they could take that walk or go for a swim later. The whole day was still ahead of them, slit like a juicy pomegranate or a pineapple. Damn, she was hungry. And, for some reason, she was craving for exotic fruits. It was sex. Sex made her thirsty and hungry and fruit-craving.

She walked barefoot to the kitchen and connected the fridge to the electrical current; then she placed some of the groceries inside and took out a big can of strawberry yoghurt. They'd bought no fruit so the yoghurt would have to do. And the chocolate ice cream was totally spoiled. It had completely melted during the last two hours, so she put it in the freezer with no real hopes that it could ever be edible again. After that, her search for a spoon started. She looked in every drawer and was about to give up and ask Spencer when she caught a glimpse of metal next to the sink. They were right there in her face. She approached the sink and took the opportunity to wash some forks and spoons in case they'd need them later when they cooked... in case they ever got to cook, that was. It was the first time she was alone at the Hastings' lake house with Spencer, and there was something about it that was making her feel like a teenage housewife, enjoying domesticity and dish-washing and potential food-cooking. She wished they could stay longer, although she was afraid of sleeping here, because the cabin was dark and isolated in the middle of the woods. It was a romantic place. And it was away from Rosewood. But it made her feel scared at the same time, because the night scared her in Rosewood and in the woods, almost everywhere, before and especially  _after_ A appeared in their lives. Anyway they had to go back to Rosewood. They had no permission to stay after 9 p.m. Like an early-hour Cinderella kind of limit, only this story was Rated R and contained no crystal high-heeled shoes.

Emily dried two spoons with a dishcloth and initiated her walk back to the bedroom, stopping along the way to recover her backpack. When she reopened the door, the sensation of a heavy, thick atmosphere of darkness, sweat and sex invaded her again, so she approached the window and rolled up the blinds just enough to let some light break into the room. Light gave way to air when she proceeded to open the window too.

A grunt of dissatisfaction came from the bed. Lying face down on the covers, Spencer moved and stirred, her bare skin goose bumping with the breezy air that blew inside.

Emily smiled, taking a moment to contemplate the view under this new light.

Leaving the spoons and the yoghurt aside, Emily sat on the bed and grabbed the sheets, slightly pushing Spencer, who emitted more sounds of discomfort, to cover her a little so she wouldn't get cold. The gooseflesh slowly disappeared under the warmth of the white sheets, her skin returning to normal. After taking care of the room and of Spencer's health, Emily lied down and opened the yoghurt. She took the spoon to her mouth and savoured the creamy strawberry flavour. Spencer seemed to be half-asleep, so Emily just ate in silence and, when she finished, left the yoghurt on the nightstand by her side, the remains ready to be eaten whenever Spencer decided on coming back to life.

She tried to think about the year ahead of them, about Danby and Princeton, about her swimming records and her real chances for a scholarship now that the HGH threat seemed over, about training and classes and exams. She calculated the miles that separated Princeton from Danby, debated over a drive or a flight, tried to form the image of a college dorm and roommates and classmates; but first, before any of that happened, she calculated grades and scores, her mind following every academic track she'd left, Bs and As, trying to create the best possible scenario (excluding A) for the year to come. Stress started to flow through her body, enervating her muscles and filling her head with information she'd almost forgotten during the summer, applications, books to read, books she'd already read, presentations, lab experiments, essays, competitions, extracurricular activities. For god's sake, if she kept thinking like this, she was really going to transform into a Hastings at some point. Not that she didn't want to belong to the Hastings; she did, at least to the one next to her on the bed, but the stress and pressure that dominated the Hastings household was something she never really liked and which made her suffer for Spencer. She had to find a way to deal with that stress herself.

Right now, the way her body found to deal with it was to immediately react against the thoughts, pushing them away, drowning them down under more pleasurable feelings and sensations. Like the light and the breeze softly brushing their skin. Like the warm, smooth body breathing next to her, partially hidden by the white sheets. School didn't start just yet. There'd be time to worry later. But not now. Now the skin facing her was eye-catching and too alluring to keep her thinking about stressful things. Distracting as it ever was, Emily moved her head to plant a sweet, brief kiss on Spencer's waist, then another one on the small of her back, yet another one on her spine. Since there was no response beyond what seemed to be a slight change of respiration, she allowed her fingertips to slightly walk on Spencer's back, tracing spirals and all kinds of patterns until goosebumps returned to Spencer's skin under her subtle, intimate touch. Somehow wickedly delighted with that effect which wasn't caused by the mild breeze in the room anymore, her fingertips travelled to Spencer's waist and wandered, slightly pressing here and there, until Spencer trembled and jerked away in a sudden move.

"It tickles."

Her voice sounded sleepy and low, but not annoyed. In fact, it sounded extremely pleased.

This was confirmed when she moved closer, an inviting gesture for Emily to continue tracing lazy geometrical patterns on her skin.

Emily giggled at the invitation, continuing her idle moves.

"Spencer", Emily pronounced slowly, almost as if her tongue was growing thick with the sound. "Spencerrrrrr."

Spencer turned her head on the bed to get a direct sight of Emily. Blurry, sleepy, literal bedroom eyes greeted Emily from the pillow.

"What?"

Emily smiled back at the bedroom eyes.

"Nothing", she answered, her voice lazy and sleepy too. "I like saying your name. S-pen-cerrrrr."

Spencer shot a wide smile now and curled her body a little in order to get closer.

"What?", Spencer repeated, not really expecting a different answer. She smiled even more brightly now. "I like your name too."

"But you can't purr it", Emily smirked sweetly, "like I can."

She repeated Spencer's name in such a way that it sounded like a low, soft purring sound.

"I didn't know you liked cats."

"It's a lesbian thing, you know."

Spencer chuckled at the joke, then bended more to approach her face to Emily's.

"But you're the cat", she reasoned, because it was Emily who was purring. "You're my cat. You're my cat Emily."

"So you're the lesbian and I'm the cat?", Emily playfully asked. Then she raised one brow, thick but beautifully drawn, a gesture she was perfecting lately. "I hope you like cats."

"I really like them", Spencer joked back, "especially if they purr my name like that."

"It's pretty uncommon to get a cat who actually talks."

"And swims too."

"Right."

Because cats weren't supposed to enjoy water. But this cat here lived for the water in the pool.

Emily placed another soft, little kiss on Spencer's side, which caused Spencer to smile again and move her whole body down in the bed so she'd be aligned with Emily, lying face to face.

"I left some yoghurt for you", Emily said, pointing at the nightstand with her head. "Ice cream's now like a soup of chocolate, it's kinda gross."

Spencer hummed contemplatively, her eyes not leaving Emily's.

"I'll eat later." She lifted her hand to touch Emily's luminous dark hair. "I was thinking about you."

"Yeah? I thought you were sleeping."

Spencer denied with her head.

"No, I was thinking", she repeated, "about you."

"And what were you thinking about me?" Emily's eyes sparkled. "Can I know?"

"About that night when we kissed the first time", Spencer answered, still playing with Emily's hair. "I was wondering… Did you wanna kiss me all the time?"

Emily frowned mockingly at her.

"I already told you about that night."

Spencer's curiosity about their story before The Kiss never reached an end.

"Yeah… but you never said if you actually wanted to kiss me all through the night or if it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing."

Hadn't she explained that before? Emily believed she had.

"I told you it wasn't planned", Emily explained (again), "but it was on my mind, yeah."

"It was on your mind."

"It was on my mind." It'd been on her mind constantly. "You were wearing a blue dress that was kinda distracting, so it definitely was on my mind, like, most of the time."

This bit of information about the dress was new.

Spencer could always get new things out of her interrogations and, as a result, Emily received the most natural response to her words: a copyrighted, property-of-Spencer-Hastings crooked smile that showed her inner satisfaction.

"So you were looking at my legs, not at my mouth."

Last time she heard, staring at a person's mouth was a sign of wanting to kiss them. However, staring at that person's legs… that was definitely a stronger, more indicative sign of attraction.

"I was trying  _not_  to look at either of them."

Spencer had to laugh at Emily's elusive, yet clarifying answer.

"That stupid dress kept rolling up", she remembered, "but I didn't realize you were staring at it."

"Because I wasn't."

Of course she wasn't staring. That would've been rude and inappropriate and embarrassing. And a clear signal that she didn't want to send… at least not so clearly.

"But you just said it was distracting you."

"Because it was", Emily explained matter-of-factly, "and that's why I wasn't looking."

Spencer frowned at the twisted, complicated logic behind the words, although, in truth, she found it totally charming.

"So let me get this clear", she restlessly continued. "You look at other girls' legs when you're not interested in them, but you avoid looking at them when you  _are_  interested?"

Emily stared at her, knowing Spencer's ultimate purpose too well.

"I don't usually stare at other people's legs", Emily answered, "cause I only wanna do it when I find them  _distracting_."

Spencer wickedly chuckled. She was reaching the point for which she aimed.

"So were you looking at my legs or not?"

Emily smiled her sphinx, Mona Lisa type of enigmatic smile, a warm sense of suspense floating in the air.

"I was", she finally recognized, gaining another bright smile, but then decided to add something else. "Trying not to do it."

Spencer snorted and narrowed her eyes at her.

"What do I have to do to get a clear answer from you?"

Emily giggled, feeling silly, because she was being vague on purpose. Of course she'd stolen a couple of glances at Spencer's legs. Maybe more than a couple. But she wasn't going to admit to that so easily.

Well, in a way she'd already admitted to that. What was the mystery anyway?

It was something Ms. Recently-Adopted-As-Gay Spencer Hastings could not understand, because she'd never stolen glances at other girls' legs (or body parts) before, had never felt weird about it when it was a  _friend_  who was distracting you with long legs or dizzying fragrances or dangerous cleavage or... Stop. She didn't really want to remember all those awkward moments.

Thank god Spencer wasn't a friend anymore.

"I don't know", Emily replied, pretending to think really hard about what Spencer had to do to get the clearest answer. "Why don't you tell me what you were looking at during that night?"

Because, let's face it, Spencer was acting weird and sending mixed, confusing signals. So maybe she was looking  _at_  something too. It was about time to turn the interrogation on her.

Spencer lowered her eyes to Emily's mouth, a very clear signal  _now_ , and then fixed her gaze back on Emily's dark almond eyes.

"I was biting my tongue about your girlfriends."

"Yeah, no kidding", Emily said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But biting your tongue isn't looking or staring."

"I was…"

Had she looked at Emily in  _that_  way during that night? She didn't really know. Maybe she had. But she hadn't identified it as desire. Although there was something in the air she couldn't totally grasp. There were some weird thoughts and images going on in her head. She'd assumed it was because she was drunk and messed up about breaking up with Toby and about Emily's warnings and silences, but now she knew there was something else.

It had to be desire, although it didn't have the name at the time.

But she was paying more attention to Emily than to any other thing that night. Her whole body had been gravitating around Emily while they talked and laughed and listened to each other and then engaged in drunken silences, all of her thoughts and ideas directed in one direction even when she didn't look at her or when she made an effort not to look at her (so she was trying not to stare too, but why? Why was she being so careful about staring and how in hell had she not identified her own restraint as a clear sign of alarm?)

Aria had teased her that night, saying she was blind like Jenna if she couldn't voice how utterly gorgeous Emily was.

Hanna had teased her too, saying she wasn't worthy of a girlfriend position if she couldn't see it or say the right words.

Emily had laughed at their jokes, somehow agreeing, but subtly averting her eyes from Spencer, keeping all her secrets to herself.

But Spencer wasn't blind, Emily was stunning. She just couldn't find the voice to say it, had instead babbled some stock phrases about how Emily was cute and beautiful, words that reflected the truth (Emily was both cute and beautiful) but that always fell short, too inadequate when applied to Emily, the person who was now looking into her eyes, a curious, deep, enduring gaze, not looking away from her anymore.

She'd behaved as if Emily was holding a riddle when the riddle was actually herself.

All these things she felt about Emily which she couldn't really interpret with concepts and words, let alone voice them, give them names, identify them and act on them.

Only after the kiss.

Regarding their relationship, it was almost as if they'd always been two or three stages ahead of where they thought they were. They were playing a level of the friendship game, convinced it was that way, they got it right, but in truth they were already playing the next one, or the one after that. They were friends, really close friends. They took care of each other, respected their differences, knew their weaknesses and strengths, offered a helping hand, a smile, a motivating word ( _you go, champ_ , she'd say to Emily after a swim meet;  _you always win, you'll do it perfect_ , Emily would wisely murmur after Spencer came back from a tennis match or when she was studying for a test). They'd even respect each other's silences, would know when to let the other one be alone. Well, Emily would. Spencer wasn't that good at respecting boundaries when she was  _really_  worried. And, all that time, they thought they got it right. Even when they were distant and apart after Alison went missing, Spencer still cared for Emily and somehow still tried to look after her in the new, colder condition of their friendship, like they had suddenly went down so many levels but were still playing the game, the game that reinitiated full-force when A sent them the first threatening texts. All that time, thinking they got it right. But they were getting it wrong, because they were already playing another level of the game. They expected more from each other, wanted more out of each other, and in her case even pushed more in order to get as much as she could out of Emily. But they never really understood what it was until that kiss.

Only the kiss pushed them forward, forcing them to skip all those levels they'd been playing around, sending them directly to the top stage of the game. The stage where you killed the ultimate monster and earned the laurel wreath.

Emily realized it, at some point. She kissed her for that reason.

But it took her too long as well.

Spencer was sure it started long before Emily's realization.

"I was thinking", she tried to continue the sentence she'd started, finally sort of grasping the feeling she had that night, "I didn't really wanna think about you kissing anybody, but the images kept coming to my head because at the same time I wanted to know what you said… and how you felt about it. And I was also thinking you were kind of glowing in a really beautiful way I couldn't totally describe, but you always do, so it wasn't really different from other times."

Emily always glowed, but maybe not so much as that night.

"So you were thinking about me kissing other people."

"Yeah, but you were talking about kissing other people, so that's why I kept running images in my head."

"And you were thinking about them", Emily asked for clarification, "these images."

Emily already knew that. Instinctively, she'd known. But, in a sense, she was still curious as to how deep these images had run in Spencer's head.

"Yeah", Spencer admitted. She remembered every fragment of it. Every word Emily said, still in her ears. And the way she looked when she spoke. And the way she looked when she tried to smoke that cigarette. And how she would sometimes shoot a direct glance at her that both intrigued and shook her, only to see her looking away again. "I was looking at you… I think I was dumb."

Emily laughed softly.

"Yeah, I think you were dumb too", she nodded mockingly, "for once."

Spencer frowned, annoyed at this new realization of her idiocy.

"Why didn't you kiss me before?"

"Before? It took a lot to do it that night."

"You should've done it before. Like, a long time before."

A long, long time ago.

Whenever they started skipping levels of friendship to become what they were now.

"When?" Emily raised her brows quizzically. "When we were twelve?"

They barely knew each other when they were twelve. They were basically starting to communicate back then. Spencer was a dorky nerd, whose only ambition was to gain Melissa's respect and to exceed in academics, an adorable pain in the ass and a sack of bones. Emily was a sweet little lamb with a smile of gold and a kind heart, destined to date the star of the swimming team or of the football team or of the athletics team. Any kind of star, but basically a male one.

God, were they blind, were they stupid? Or were they just too young?

Did Emily even know she was gay at that point?

"The night I broke up with Toby and you came to my place."

Emily seemed surprised.

"That was definitely  _not_  the night to kiss you."

"Why not? I'm pretty sure I would've kissed you back that night too."

"I'm not", Emily replied, a little taken aback by the idea. "You hardly even looked at me. It took hours to actually get you to speak to me."

"But you wanted to do it?"

Here she was, Spencer: trying to get a new twist of information. They had also talked about that night before. But there were always new details to get out of it.

Emily stared at her calmly for a long moment before replying.

"Yeah, I did."

It had been torture to repress it.

Spencer sighed and placed her hand on Emily's neck.

"I wish you had."

Emily didn't agree, though.

"Sure", Emily answered, a slight sharpness in her tone. "You break up with your soulmate and two people kiss you, and one of them is your best friend. It makes a lot of sense."

Spencer had completely forgotten about Wren. And Wren was not the name she wanted to bring up right now in conversation. Not today. Not for  _a long time_. Orange was starting to fade away, but it was still  _her_  color if Wren's name was mentioned.

She'd also forgotten about the soulmate ideal that she was attributing to Toby at the time.

"You  _are_  my soul mate."

Emily's gaze softened upon hearing the words, and she leaned into Spencer's ear.

"But you didn't know yet."

Spencer wished she'd known a long time ago.

"I wish I'd known earlier."

Emily smiled, her high cheeks standing out and glowing again.

"When we were born we should've been introduced and forced into a concerted marriage", she teased. "Would that make you happy?"

"No, that's awful", Spencer protested, pouting her lips. Concerted marriages were wrong and an act of violence on people, especially infants. "But maybe if you'd tried pulling at my dress in kindergarten or something like that, I would've known."

They both laughed at the idea.

"I didn't pull at other girls' dresses in kindergarten", Emily defended herself, though. She'd always been very well behaved as a child. "Maybe you did, but I didn't."

"I didn't do it either", Spencer complained. "I just threw mud at other boys and girls."

"See?" Emily smirked cheekily, glowing more intensely now. "Throwing mud definitely screams bisexuality to me. You should've been the one to come kiss me."

They locked eyes, because Emily had somehow managed to turn the tables on Spencer, and Spencer knew, even though it was all a silly joke. Sometimes she wondered why she hadn't realized and basically kissed Emily with all she had, before or after she came out, with Alison alive or dead, it didn't matter. Sometimes she still wondered why. Maybe she was just obsessed with a stupid, insoluble question. Facts were important, questions about the past were not. Stories were made of facts, not of questions. But facts were also contingent, malleable: they were once mere possibilities in someone's head. It didn't cease to intrigue her, so she just pulled Emily's neck closer to her face and parted her lips to kiss Emily kindergarten-style; well, it was dirtier and sexier than anything that should happen in kindergarten. Now, if she really wanted to perform the ideal joke, she'd just have to find some mud to throw at Emily's beautiful face and hair, to symbolize the beginning of their love in (false) retrospect, drawing it back to an original state of childish innocence in a past that could never be. Kindergarten style: throwing mud to scream they belonged together, they were bound to happen against all odds.

A long stare followed the kiss, innocence still shining through Emily's face sometimes.

Then Emily lowered her head and kissed Spencer's collarbone, right in the small, hollow spot she loved, upon which now rested the silver image of the old Egyptian queen.

"This part of you is mine. You know that, right?"

Her finger slightly pressed the sweaty skin under the silver queen, in the sternum. Then she kissed it, as if to seal the property contract, softly tracing the spot with her full lips and the tip of her tongue.

"You only want one part?", Spencer asked, her voice growing huskier with the sensual feeling of the kiss. She always found it so sexy when Emily either stared or touched her there. "I thought you wanted the whole thing."

Emily looked back, straight in the eye, sweet but defiant.

"I want the whole thing", she shrugged confidently, "and I have it. But this part has my name, like, imprinted. Or tattooed. It says Emily, and I have the pendant to prove it."

She touched the pendant and placed the head on her finger to contemplate it again. Then she continued her explanation.

"So no one else can touch here or it'll burn their hands and their lips, even their eyes if they lay them on it." She shot Spencer a through glance. "Remember this thing was trained for war."

It had been brought by a military man after a mission in Iraq.

Spencer returned Emily's confident gaze in awe.

And this was Emily, the same Emily who proclaimed, during their first real fight, that she was not a fighter.

Every time she discovered a new sign of that possessive, combative streak in Emily, Spencer heard two voices arguing in her head. One said it was irrational for Emily to feel insecure, because she'd made it clear, so many times, in so many different languages, that she belonged to Emily totally, body and soul, that there were no more languages left to  _explain_  this fact of life to her.

The other voice found that possessive streak extremely hot.

Actually, there was only one voice. They were the same voice. And the voice said it was hot.

"I wonder why Hanna and Aria think I'm the dog peeing all around you."

Emily giggled, knowing Spencer was right.

"Cause I'm a cat", she replied, following the tease, "and you bark too much."

To be honest, it was a good metaphor. Spencer was the terrier dog, always barking loudly, making a mess, whereas Emily was subtle, reserved about that kind of intense feelings.

"Is there any other part of me you wanna claim as yours?"

Emily smiled mischievously.

"They're yours", Emily softly replied, "but I'm naming them so no one else can come after me and claim them."

Spencer held Emily's gaze, frowning at the indication of a future person who wouldn't be Emily.

"Who's gonna come after you?"

"No one's gonna dare", Emily teased happily, "but I'm doing it just in case."

"So which are those parts you wanna own?"

Emily wiggled her brows funnily.

"They're the sexiest, most coveted parts", she clarified. "Can I say? Or maybe I should keep them a secret."

Spencer didn't answer, but raised her brows expectantly.

Lying on her stomach, Emily bent her knees upwards, her feet dancing playfully in the air. She was enjoying the expectant look on Spencer's face. Then she crawled on the bed until her nose touched Spencer's lips, smelling her breath, patiently waiting until Spencer slightly opened her mouth for another kiss that didn't happen this time, because just when it was going to happen Emily's nose and mouth separated a little while her fingers walked up to touch Spencer's lower lip.

The look of disappointment on Spencer's face only set Emily's increasing mischief in motion.

"This one", Emily murmured, brushing Spencer's lip with her thumb.

"My lips?"

Emily nodded, eyes and fingers focused on that concrete body part.

"Your lower lip", she cleared. "The one you keep chewing on when you're nervous or when you're thinking about something really deep and important."

Or when she was aroused.

Emily lowered her head again and slightly sucked the coveted lip, then deepened the kiss as Spencer was previously expecting. It wasn't surprising for her to receive a much hungrier kiss. Her mischievous behaviour with the lip had clearly turned Spencer on.

"Anything else?"

Spencer asked the question without letting the kiss go, forcing Emily to come back and continue it. When she managed to break free, Emily smiled and looked down at Spencer's partially covered body. Then she looked thoughtfully at her face again, separating a little to gain some distance.

"Yeah", Emily finally announced, "your nose."

Her fingers walked up a couple of steps from Spencer's mouth, slowly running and drawing the crooked line of the nose.

"You want my nose?", Spencer asked, surprised. "I'm pretty sure no one else will want that one."

"I want it", Emily stated firmly. "People are crazy if they don't want it."

She traced the trail of little kisses from the nose back down to Spencer's mouth, which was already twitched up in a smile. They kissed deeply again and then Emily rested her head between Spencer's shoulder and chest, where she could listen to Spencer's regular respiration.

They stayed in silence for a while.

"I never think about claiming parts of you for me", Spencer thought aloud, her voice low and sleepy again. "Maybe I should start doing it. You know, just in case."

Just in case someone came after her.

Oh, but that someone, if it ever existed, was going to live a very short, brief, violent life.

"You can do it if you want."

Emily's voice sounded lazy and sleepy too, her fingers tracing patterns again up from Spencer's stomach to her ribs, her small breasts and back to her clavicle.

"I kinda believe the whole thing is mine."

Emily lifted her head, resting her chin on Spencer's shoulder, and shot her a deep, meaningful look.

"The whole thing is yours. We're just choosing our favourite parts."

After making this clear, Emily looked away to rest on Spencer's chest again, but Spencer's hand lifted her head to keep looking into her eyes.

Then, in a sudden move, her fingers brushed and invaded Emily's long, dark, glossy hair, tousling it around with her hands.

"I want your hair", Spencer's raspy voice demanded, "your hair's mine."

"My hair?"

"Yeah, your pretty hair."

Spencer lifted her own head to sink her nose into Emily's neck and cascade of hair.

"I like your hair too", Emily said, laughing.

She'd forgotten to claim Spencer's brown waves, the way they tickled on her skin when they were kissing, the way she'd always recognize them from a distance, no matter how far away they were, when Spencer was giving her back to her, talking to someone else.

"It's my turn now", Spencer replied, "and I want your hair cause it's always so perfect and luminous and so dark and it always smells so good."

Emily moved, trying to see through her own curtain of hair, to search for Spencer's eyes and mouth.

"Okay, you got it", she agreed, once she could see again. "What else?"

They kissed, dark hair still getting in the way. Then Spencer held Emily's hand and lifted it to her face.

"Your hand", Spencer specified. "No, your fingers."

This answer elicited a mocking, disbelieving look on Emily.

"Why? You have beautiful hands. Mine are ugly."

Spencer's hands were elegant, with long fingers, while her hands were kind of short and chubby. They were probably the part she most disliked about her body.

"They're not ugly", Spencer argued. "There's nothing ugly about you. And anyway I'm choosing your fingers not because of how they look but because of  _what_  they do."

Emily smiled slyly, but opened her eyes in shock.

"You definitely are a perv."

Spencer's eyes opened wide in a mimicking fashion.

"Hey!", she protested. "I didn't mean it like that."

"And here I was thinking we were playing a romantic game."

"I  _didn't_  mean it like that", Spencer protested more vehemently. "And even if I meant it like that, it'd still be my choice."

Emily burst out in laughter.

"So did you mean it like that or not?"

"No! I'm telling you", Spencer tried to explain. "I chose them because they're always so graceful and they're always doing all kinds of things, like carefully opening stuff without ripping anything apart or walking around me and tickling me and I  _like_  that."

Emily was still looking at her in disbelief, so Spencer paused a second to scowl at her.

"You  _are_  the perv. You  _are_  the one who's thinking dirty thoughts."

Sparks illuminated Emily's eyes.

"You think?"

"Obviously that's the case."

"I didn't choose any pervy thing."

"Maybe you should've."

"Maybe I should have, given your pervy-porny choices."

Man, what Hanna would do with this conversation if she could  _hear_!

"And what would you choose?"

"I'm gonna wait until you choose your last thing."

"I still have one left?"

"Yep", Emily said. "I chose three parts. And you already have perfect, smelly hair and tickling, pervy fingers. You still have one more to choose."

This time it was Spencer who smiled in mischief.

She seemed to dedicate some time to think, but it was clear for Emily that the deal was done. She was just trying to create suspense.

"So?"

Spencer crawled down in order to wrap her hands around Emily's ass and squeeze it, a bright, malicious smile on her lips.

"Your ass, forever and ever."

Emily couldn't help smiling, although she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"And then you'll say you're not a perv."

"It's not my fault that you have the greatest ass. I'd be stupid not to claim it for me."

"Why am I not surprised to find out you're not a romantic?"

Spencer took offense in that.

"Hey, your hands are romantic. Your hair is romantic. Even your ass is romantic, if given the proper treatment."

"Sure", Emily scolded, pretending to be very offended herself. "You're the most romantic person I can ever imagine. I only chose things that were either in your neck or your face, not dirty, sexually corrupted body parts. I care about beauty and spiritual stuff."

"Maybe you just don't like the rest of me", Spencer offered.

"That's not true!"

It was Spencer who couldn't stop chuckling now.

"Okay, we're gonna fix this", she managed to say in between chuckles. "You choose a pervy thing and I choose a more romantic thing. Deal?"

Emily looked away to make Spencer believe she was considering it, while Spencer's hands were still grabbing her ass.

"Deal", Emily agreed after a few seconds passed.

"You start", Spencer said. "Pervy thing."

Emily bit on her own lip now. In her opinion, her lower lip obsession was pretty pervy, but maybe not enough, given the circumstances.

Then she had other obsessions which might just be a little too hardcore to mention, because they didn't exactly correspond to body parts. More to certain activities and postures and… Man. Choosing a pervy thing was more difficult than it seemed.

"I'm waiting."

Emily shot Spencer an irritated look.

"And I'm thinking."

She felt Spencer's eyes clawing into her, growing increasingly intense and amused with every second she took to choose.

She looked down and observed Spencer's body again.

There was this curve on her waist which was really sexy, because she was so skinny but, at the same time, curvy. And that was where she really enjoyed tickling her with her pervy fingers.

There were also her legs. God. Her legs.

Fit and strong, but not too muscled.

Longer and longer under a dress or a skirt, leggings or skinny jeans.

Those two last pieces of clothing were definitely more difficult to handle in pervy terms, but still.

"Your legs", she blurted out. "They're longer than anything and they basically end up driving me where I always wanna go."

Her final words were a declaration of pure pervyness uttered with as much naughtiness as she could manage. Therefore, Spencer's immediate reaction was to cock a knowing eyebrow at her.

"You  _are_  the perv, exactly like I said."

And Spencer didn't even know that was the  _light_  stuff on her mind. But she'd been forced to think of something pervy. It wasn't really her fault.

Now what would Spencer say to beat her previous romanticism?

"I still have to see if you can be a romantic."

"I can be a perfect romantic."

"Let's see."

They held each other's gaze with curiosity.

"Your eyelashes", Spencer steadily, firmly declared, her expression suddenly serious. She lifted her fingers to touch them softly, forcing Emily to close her eyes for a moment. "They're long, longer than anything", Spencer continued, repeating Emily's previous naughty words, "and they drive me somewhere I always wanna go with you."

Emily reopened her eyes, her gaze softening in warmth. But she frowned, not understanding the cryptic turn Spencer had introduced to her own words.

"Where?"

Spencer slightly shrugged.

"Your eyes. Where you're looking at." She paused, thinking about the real meaning of the words. "I always wanna go there with you."

Still holding each other's gaze, Emily realized Spencer did know how to beat everyone at every game.

Not that she minded being beaten like that.

She felt speechless for a long moment. She felt the ground slipping under her feet, even though she was lying horizontally, the scenery flying by, her body being swept away in the wind.

In a good way.

Not in the really bad way that scared the hell out of her, when things went wrong and there was nothing to hold on to.

They kissed.

And then her fingers played dirty games again.

And then they made love again, forever chained to this room, to this sight until the end.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Crossfire", song by Brandon Flowers.


	19. The Storm Outside, III

Spencer achieved quite an elegant posture before crashing the water headfirst. Reflecting the sun and the trees, a few greenish crystal drops shone in the air for a moment before falling down on the blanket of water again. She'd run a little to take impulse in the moment of take-off, gaining height and speed while her feet and her hands aligned all the length of her body in order to reduce the amount of water splashing when she made contact with the lake. She looked like an arrow, suspended in the air before entering the water and submerging under it until she resurfaced seconds after the impact, rubbing her eyes and then opening them wide, slightly disoriented after the splash and the subsequent speedy dive.

She looked around for Emily, who was already swimming away.

A hoot made Spencer turn, the sound calling out for her attention, a reference to Emily's position in the water.

"I'm impressed!", Emily shouted, in case Spencer hadn't heard her hoot at her jump. "What else can you do?"

Spencer shot a bright smile and started to swim in her direction.

"I can do everything."

"Show-off."

Spencer swam faster towards her, frog style, and Emily waited expectantly, holding herself in the water.

"I used to practice my headfirst dive every summer", Spencer explained while she stroke, "and that's why I'm still good."

Emily waited until Spencer was already close enough to shoot her a daring smile.

"Well, can you swim fast enough?"

She knew how much Spencer loved any kind of competition, so Emily started crawling away at a moderate speed. She could be pretty fast, but she decided to give Spencer a chance to catch up to her. However, lacking references as to where they were in the lake, she stopped after some crawls and turned around only to find Spencer trying to keep up with her rhythm, still too far away. Apparently, even a moderate speed was too much in this case, which somehow surprised her, because Spencer was such a sporty person Emily kind of expected it'd be more difficult to beat her. Either Emily was really good or Spencer wasn't that fast. But it wasn't the first time they engaged in a friendly swimming competition, although it was the first time in the lake, and Emily didn't remember having such an easy advantage the last times; maybe Spencer was just too tired today, or hadn't exercised enough during the summer. Either way, Emily contemplated Spencer making the effort to reach her: she found Spencer's human weaknesses all too amazing and endearing at the same time, it was always a temptation to just stare at her before she had a chance to tell her how super-cute she was when she thought she was just losing a game.

Spencer slowed down, breathlessly approaching Emily once she realized the race was over.

"I can't swim _ that _ fast", she complained, slightly embarrassed. "I've never been that good at swimming."

Emily waited for her, tending a hand.

"You don't have to be the best at everything, you know."

Spencer smirked at the comment. She surely knew Emily didn't expect her to be perfect. Emily was probably the only person who didn't expect her to be anything but herself. Still, she wanted to be as good as she could, especially at the sport her girlfriend starred in.

"I don't?", Spencer teased, feigning surprise.

It came now: the chance to tell her.

"You look super cute when you're just doing your best instead of being the best."

"Cute?" Spencer stopped, still distant, and raised a suspicious brow. "I thought I was a sexy bitch."

Emily smiled at the words.

"You're a sexy bitch when you win", Emily explained, "but you're cute when you lose."

"I'm only cute when I lose _ to you _ ", Spencer replied, swimming again in Emily's direction. "If not, I'm just sexy-bitchier."

She laughed, because it was true. She could get really frustrated after losing.

"Then I'll just participate in every competition", Emily smirked, "so you get to be cute in all of them."

Spencer actually liked the idea.

Wouldn't that be totally sweet? And reassuring? And probably a way to just forget about everything, including winning? Because, to be honest, if Emily participated in every competition she'd most probably be thinking about something entirely different the whole time.

"You know, accepting such a soothing truth, that I can actually lose and be cute about it, would automatically destroy my life", Spencer continued in sarcastic fashion, "and I'd vanish into the air like smoke. Bye bye, Spencer Hastings. Hello, Smokey Hastings. We don't know who you are."

A part of her already smelled like Smokey Hastings. The part of her who wouldn't care anymore about pleasing her parents and Melissa was already Smokey.

Emily giggled at the name, thinking of Smoking Hot Hastings instead, and Spencer tended her hand too, grabbing Emily's in order to be driven towards her in the water, until she wrapped her arms around Emily's neck, bending her body and placing her soles on Emily's thighs.

"I know who you are", Emily said after kissing Spencer's cheek in a greeting of water, "and you're good enough even without trying."

Even though they were supposedly talking about swimming, Emily meant it as a general truth about Spencer.

And Spencer understood, warmth flooding over her whole body with the embrace. Because, if she was Smokey right now, it was mainly because Emily was here, telling her she rocked the world and her nose was perfect and she looked cute when she was a breathless loser. Super cute. Which probably translated as adorable, because there was only one super-cute person in the world, and that was Emily.

But she picked up on the swimming cue.

"You just saw I'm not very fast."

"I'm pretty sure you could be if you tried", Emily said, picking up on that too while she held her on the water, "although you'd probably have to quit some other sport you're already playing."

"There's only one sport I'm not quitting."

The words sounded naughty into Emily's ear, exactly as they'd been intended and voiced in a sultry whisper.

Then Spencer separated her face a little to look at Emily again.

"So you actually want me to swim? You don't know what you're saying. You know what happens to me when I get obsessed."

Emily chuckled at that. Yes, she did know what happened when Spencer obsessed over something new.

"Are you gonna join the swim team and steal my captain position?"

Spencer furrowed her brows.

"Never", she replied, moving her head in denial, as if that was not only utterly impossible but plain immoral as well. "Unless you want me with you in the team, as a swimming escort."

A swimming escort. That was interesting.

"You'd try then?"

"I would certainly try _ very _ hard to swim-escort you everywhere."

Emily laughed again as Spencer planted a humid kiss on her humid nose.

"And stop watching you play field hockey and tennis and win debates and practice chess and what else you're doing next year?", Emily joked back, trying to avoid the feeling that next year started in some days.  "Never."

"Ballroom dancing."

Emily looked surprised.

"Seriously?"

"I'm a pretty good dancer."

Emily knew that. But choosing ballroom dancing as an extracurricular activity seemed… well, it seemed weird enough to be something Spencer would do, actually.

"I know you are", Emily admitted, still surprised. "So you're gonna dance around with some guy?"

Spencer chuckled at Emily's look of curiosity, where a slight trace of jealousy was hidden behind a stronger, intense tinge of interest and attraction.

"Why, wanna join me there?"

"Unfortunately, I have to swim, like, _ all _ the time."

She wasn't sure if looking at Spencer dance a weird dance around a room would qualify as sexy or as annoying. Sexy was winning in her head, right now. She'd seen Spencer dance a couple of times, in different parties, and it was definitely… something to memorize and cherish. But annoying would do too if there was a cute guy dancing with her, or if the music was creepy or screechy or plain boring.

She wished she could join her, though, and so she pouted a little.

She was a good dancer herself. Maybe not as good as Spencer, but she enjoyed it, although she liked dancing to other styles of music… like dance music, which was named that way for _ a _ _ reason _ .

"I can drop the dancing for the swimming."

Spencer's reply sounded husky, because she was enjoying the soft, subtle expressions she was catching on Emily's face. And anyway she hadn't decided yet. She'd probably drop the dancing to focus on more important things. It was senior year, after all.

If Emily asked her, she'd start to swim in a heartbeat. Senior year or not.

"I'd do it for you", Spencer continued, playing with Emily's wet hair, "you know."

"You'd do anything for me."

Emily's words sounded both playful and confident, causing Spencer to shoot back a meaningful glance, a somehow solemn mix of wonder and acceptance. Sometimes it amazed her how easy it was for Emily to tease about things she must have read on her mind.

Because she must have read this on her mind. 

"Yeah", she voiced her acceptance as her gaze became accordingly intense to the words. "That's exactly my take on it."

Emily returned the gaze, her dark eyes twinkling and sparkling at the connection of ideas between the two of them.

"Join the team then. We'll swim-escort each other."

"You're not made to swim-escort anyone, I'm offended by the idea", Spencer fake-scolded her. Emily was the star of the swim team. "And anyway I'm not good enough yet, so you'd have to offer me private lessons to get better."

Her voice sounded a little whiny now, although the idea of private swimming lessons made her heart flutter for some reason. Probably because the dirtiest, naughtiest part of her wasn't really thinking about swimming after all.

"Are you sure you wouldn't do it just to keep an eye on the other swimmers?"

Spencer seemed both surprised and innocent at Emily's playful joke about her, let's say, protective instincts.

That front had been really quiet ever since they started dating and Spencer tried to imply she didn't like the idea of Emily training alone in the pool while Paige McCullers was there too, as if that actually posed a danger to Emily's life (sure), but Emily convinced her the idea was absurd and she had to retract and let it go. Of course, the summer had kind of quieted the whole thing down even more, since Paige had been away most of the time.

"Sure, that'd be my hidden agenda", Spencer said, flowing with the joke, "watching all those naked swimmers in the team who're always gonna try their luck to sleep with you."

She flowed with the joke, but she also searched intensely for Emily's eyes now.

She wasn't really worried about those swimmers. Or about a particular one of them. But, on the other hand, every passing day she was more certain that _ anyone _ would want to try their luck to sleep with Emily. Probably that overwhelming, exaggerated certainty had to be related to the fact that she was in love as well as to the even more important fact that she was the one actually sleeping with her, and wasn't going to give up that privilege or pass it to anyone else, but there had to be some objectivity to it as well. Of this she was sure.

It was the pure objectivity of looking at Emily, really.

"Watching naked swimmers, that's your agenda?", Emily played along, gracefully avoiding the mention of any names while at the same time keeping the tease alive. "There are always _ a lot _ of naked people chasing after me, so you're gonna have lots of work to do if you really wanna escort me around the pool."

"I know", Spencer softly agreed, not afraid at all. She might not be a great swimmer, but she owned this game. "I'll always have a lot of barking and peeing around to do to keep Hanna and Aria happy."

The way Spencer redirected the joke towards Hanna and Aria made Emily laugh again.

They slowly rotated around an imaginary axis, floating together aimlessly on the water.

"So that means I can ask you anything?", Emily asked, changing the topic but not the tone.

"Anything."

"That's a lot of power to give to just one person."

"I don't care", Spencer replied happily. "I think it's already too late to reconsider."

Emily giggled, because she knew it was already too late. She _ so _ had that power in her hands.

She allowed Spencer to hold her body now so she could let her back float on the water, wetting her long dark hair again.

"Now I have to think about what to do with all that power."

She gently disentangled from Spencer's arms and swam away, backstroking softly.

Instead of approaching her again, Spencer held her place and shot her a cutting glance.

"You should know, when it comes to sex, I'm open to anything except a threesome."

That answer was unexpected and, as a result, it made Emily explode in laughter and splash the water at Spencer, who turned around and ducked her head to seek refuge from the water attack.

"Too bad", Emily shouted, laughing. "You just destroyed my number one sexual fantasy."

She tried to look let down, but she was still laughing too hard.

"Sorry", Spencer shrugged, hardly choking back her own laughter. "I'm not sharing. Other than that you can ask anything."

This time she did swim in Emily's direction, approaching her again.

"Okay, no threesome. Let me get over that", Emily said as if it was a huge disappointment, achieving some seriousness in the delivery. "And over the fact that you're already restricting the meaning of _ anything _ ." She backstroked away a little more, forcing Spencer to chase her. "I knew it couldn't be that good."

"Anything between the two of us", Spencer clarified, always looking for logical consistence, "isn't that restrictive."

A sly smile appeared on Emily's lips and slowly changed her expression.

"What are you thinking?", Spencer asked, her eyes burning with curiosity.

"Wouldn't you wanna know?"

"I do wanna know, actually", Spencer demanded. "That's the whole point of this conversation."

"Oh, is it?"

"You name it."

Emily stopped swimming around to shoot a mocking, yet direct look at Spencer.

"Nana's couch."

She enjoyed the way Spencer froze in confusion for a millisecond before realizing it was still a joke.

"No way."

"So many unfulfilled promises…"

The splash of water was now directed at Emily's face, and she shut her eyes to resist it.

"You can't seriously propose _ that _ couch", Spencer feigned indignation, although a part of her was considering the possibility that Emily might actually be proposing it. "You _ are  _ wicked if you do."

"It's just a couch, Spencer, it's not like there's a person lying on it."

"C'mon!"

Emily laughed really hard at Spencer now.

"No?"

"Em!"

"Liar."

Spencer jumped in the water to force a more physical attack, so Emily had to be quick to move before being reached. The whole joke ended up with Spencer landing on the water instead of on Emily's body, and she submerged again to try her luck at poking Emily's ribs or legs even though her eyes were closed under water.

She didn't succeed though, her hands hardly brushing Emily's soft skin with the tip of her fingers. If she could open her eyes, the story would be so different and Emily would be so ducked and defeated. But the lake wasn't the pool, and she didn't dare risking an eye infection.

Her head re-emerged on the surface, hair soaking wet again, reflecting a darker shade of brown.

"You're too restrictive", Emily shouted the moment Spencer reappeared. "You should shut up and not say the word _ anything _ , you know."

"And you know you're just saying that to pick on me."

She tried jumping at her again, this time less aggressively so she wouldn't end up under water.

"I am", Emily acknowledged, slightly moving this time not to get caught. "But I'm also testing you to see if you're really committed to this relationship."

Spencer stared at her and blinked, her expression changing from fierce to contemplative.

"If you _ really _ need to have sex there", she finally said, a determined, yet calm expression on her face, "I will. Worst part is I'll probably like it just as much as everywhere else."

After saying those words, she shrugged it off and swam around again, smiling at Emily's reaction.

Ironically, she was feeling like a shark, swimming in circles around a prey.

"You're kidding!"

Emily had gaped at the accepting words, clearly expecting a different answer.

"I said I'd do anything", Spencer answered, feeling confident and firm, "and I plan to stick to my words."

Emily did swim straight in her direction, facing Spencer instead of swimming away from her.

She wrapped her arms around Spencer's neck now.

"Wow", she admired, and then breathed deeply. "Okay."

Spencer played her best poker face, waiting to see how the tease would end.

And, right now, it started to end in a kiss, because their lips connected.

They both embraced each other while they were kissing, and Emily wrapped her legs around Spencer's body too, letting her carry the light, floating weight. Then, breaking the kiss, she looked into Spencer's eyes, searching for the hazel shade.

It was there. As every time the sun was hitting her face.

Emily's slyness faded away into pure fondness as she observed Spencer trying to hold her position on the water with her arms, making an effort not to give in and kiss her again.

"I don't wanna share either", Emily murmured softly, her eyes not leaving Spencer's eyes, "or do it in your nana's couch."

Spencer held Emily's soft, warm gaze.

"I'm glad we're on the same page."

"We are."

"I didn't expect less." She softly allowed her left hand to run across Emily's thigh under water, risking the possibility of sinking down. "What's your number one sexual fantasy then?"

"The one I'm pretty much fulfilling today."

Emily looked away after answering, a sudden, unexpected blush covering her cheeks like it hadn't happened to her in ages, and Spencer's lips twitched up in a cocky smile at the realization. Emily was always so cute whenever her nose and her cheeks darkened in embarrassment.

"You're blushing", Spencer said aloud, her voice trembling in pleasure. Then she decided to ask for details about the one fantasy they were fulfilling today. "Which one exactly?"

There were a few things on her mind and she wasn't sure which one was _ the one _ .

Emily looked right back at her.

"All of them."

And the ones yet to come. There was still day to enjoy. There was still road to go.

She wrapped herself more tightly around Spencer's waist as she leaned in for a series of slow, tender kisses which intermingled with brief, intense glances between the two of them. She could feel Spencer getting tired of holding the position in the water, trying to keep them afloat and touch her at the same time. She could perceive the slight hitch of Spencer's breathing against her face while they kissed. Was sex in the lake a part of the fantasy? Not really. It seemed uncomfortable and dirty. They'd probably sink down and swallow water and mud. Yikes.

Disentangling her legs to release the pressure, even though they were in the water, where the gravity of their bodies didn't impose so much, Emily grabbed Spencer's ass, pulling her closer and shifting the weights before continuing the kiss. In between moves and kisses, she could feel, with her fingers and her lips, the goosebumps reappearing on Spencer's skin. They were probably a consequence of the water already cooling down at the end of the summer and of the afternoon starting to fall on them, along with the shadows projected by the tops of the trees. Perhaps, only perhaps they were a consequence of Spencer's acute sensitivity to her touch under water. Perhaps she was Spencer's fantasy. Perhaps that was all that could be said.

Talk about fantasies.

Wondering about the reason for the changes in Spencer's skin was already a sexual fantasy in itself. At least for her, it was. She didn't have such an elaborated ideal about sex. She just enjoyed having time for it and feeling bold enough to do _ anything _ she felt she could do, as long as it was received well on the other end. Apparently, that was exactly the case. _ All the time _ . And that was definitely a plus in terms of any sexual fantasy she could ever have and execute. She was boring in that sense. Nothing fancy, nothing complex. No gymnastics, no public sexual displays (excluding that restroom, but she was so desperate after the three days of no-kissing policy), no need to search the web or google strange words or dress in costumes. Just them: she would become restless when they were alone. She just needed Spencer in the room, and that was all.

Just put them in a bed, in a restroom, in a car or inside of a lake. Just throw them a couch.

They would both let go.

They trusted each other more than anyone else in the world. At least, she did.

After receiving a long series of kisses on her neck, the sense of goosebumps on Spencer's skin and on her own finally made Emily decide on getting out of the water. She didn't want any of them catching an end-of-summer cold. And things between them were heating up at the same rate that the water and the air cooled down on their wet bodies.

"Let's get out and take a shower."

She dragged Spencer, taking her by the wrist, and they both started to swim back to the shore. She was leading the swim and it surprised her when Spencer swam from behind and stopped her, holding her by the waist like a fish feeding off and riding on another fish.

"Is the shower a part of the fantasy?"

Emily turned a little, feeling her body tightly held, Spencer's breathing on her neck. She hadn't really thought of it, at least right now, but you could never reject a chance like that. Throw them in a shower too. It'd still be the same. It'd still be them.

"You're getting cold", Emily replied instead. Spencer looked into her eyes, searching for something, and Emily wondered what it was. "Let's go."

They slowly swam back to the shore, and Spencer slowed down to let Emily walk out first. When it was her who reached the shore, a few steps behind Emily, she crouched down, determined on carrying out the ultimate ideal joke. She hadn't been able to jump on Emily on the water, because Emily would always be faster and smarter there, in her liquid habitat; but the soil was a different territory, more suited and adjusted to her teasing skills. Her hands grabbed the mud covering the shore and, as soon as they were full with it, her agile, long legs started running as fast as they could towards Emily, who turned around in utter surprise. Emily screamed when it was already too late, mud starting to cover her face and her shoulders, and they both struggled and fell on the ground, hands and legs getting in the way while Spencer fiercely fought her battle, laughing savagely at Emily's screams.

"Not the hair!", Emily pleaded, breathing sharply while she tried to stop the unstoppable. "Spencer!"

The battle decreased in intensity when Spencer, who had finally landed on top (where else?), reached that final purpose of mud-bathing Emily's perfect, beautiful hair.

Emily stopped fighting, trying to recover her breathing.

"Not the hair", she repeated when it was already done, Spencer's dirty hands massaging Emily's mud-covered hair. "You animal. You beast."

Spencer breathed sharply and almost coughed while laughing.

"Me sexy beast."

"You sexy bitch."

They looked into each other's eyes, all meanings uncovered, unearthed under the muddy hands.

"The hair's the most important part", Spencer explained.

"Now I'll have to spend hours in the shower."

"I'll wash it", Spencer offered, actually finding the idea _ very _ appealing. "It just had to be done."

Her fingers slowed down and stopped, the ritual of kindergarten courtship already performed.

Now she could say she'd created a perfect, ideal past for their love.

Emily was lying on her back, where there was no more mud, only sand and gravel and weeds. She slightly moved, uncomfortable with Spencer's weight because a small stone was sticking on her side. She took out the stone with her left hand, arching her back a little, and touched the dry soil on which she was lying. She understood the ritual. The ritual required her to retaliate. Thus, when Spencer finally leaned down to kiss her, a seal to the ideal courtship, Emily parted her lips to kiss back, fooling her, because what she actually did was lift her hand full of sand to let it fall on Spencer's hair and face, reigniting the fight. She gently but firmly slapped Spencer's face, rubbing her in sand and weeds, as she struggled her own way on top and, soon enough, they rolled over, since Spencer wasn't really fighting that hard anymore, now that her main objective had been attained and Emily was indeed marked by her lover's mud.

They both breathed heavily at the new explosion of energy.

"I thought you didn't throw mud at the girls you liked", Spencer uttered breathlessly.

She spit out some sand that had landed on her mouth, and Emily smiled at their condition, releasing the force on Spencer's arms. They looked terrible: wet and smeared in dirt, only covered by a bikini which also looked like hell, and that in her case was almost falling.

Emily straightened her back to tighten the bikini lace on her neck and her back.

If she had a pervy mind, which apparently she did, because she was thinking of this, she'd say they looked like a girls-in-mud kind of porn fantasy. Thankfully there were no neighbours who could see this. It was a disgrace.

"Are you eating sand now?", she asked Spencer, who was still spitting out sand with the tip of her tongue.

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

Emily tried to use one of her hands, the least dirty one, to clean the surroundings of Spencer's mouth, but it didn't really work. She just managed to expand some of her own mud on Spencer's face.

They both burst out in a silly, crazy giggle that lasted for a while.

"Choking sand down someone's throat is the new I-have-a-crush-on-you Fields-style."

"You forced me to do it", Emily defended herself, trying to stop laughing. "I used to have a completely different method."

Spencer sent her a curious look.

"What was your method in kindergarten? You never told me."

"I don't remember. Drooling?"

"So you basically just sat there and drooled until you started kissing straight girls?"

A meaningful, yet cautious smile showed on Emily's face.

"Yeah, I probably did that until I taught myself my powers of gay-conversion."

Spencer offered a twisted smile at this new revival of Hanna's jokes.

"You did learn those pretty well."

"I did, huh?"

"Although you've been kissed too, right?"

Yes. Both Maya and Paige had kissed her. Samara too.

"My powers only work with _ straight _ girls."

"Right, they can't convert someone who's already gay."

"I'm a gay vampire."

"You suck the straightness out of a girl's body."

Emily laughed at the rapid exchange, but had to lean down and seal her part of the courtship with another kiss, despite the sand and the mud on both their faces. But Spencer didn't seem to care. It was her ritual of courtship, after all. She'd better take it, because she was having it.

The kiss was sweet and careful, and it broke when Emily got sand in her mouth too.

"You're a bully", Emily repeated softly.

"But now you know for sure that I like you", Spencer smirked, "ever since we were little."

Emily giggled again, stretching to lie on the ground too. Their legs entwined while Emily observed Spencer's hair, which was dirty but rapidly curling and waving as it dried.

She received another searching, wondering look from Spencer.

The sun was losing its force.

The breeze was making them shiver a little, brushing their wet skin. Goosebumps had now conquered the totality of their bodies.

But she decided to ask.

"What's on your mind now?"

Spencer seemed surprised at the question. But then she stared into Emily's eyes.

"Do you ever wonder if you'd be like this with someone else?", she asked, squinting her eyes even though the sun wasn't touching her face. "Or do you think we'd be different?"

"If I'd be like what? Muddy and dirty?"

Spencer chuckled a little at the joke, but her expression grew serious.

"No, I mean like this. Like you're with me now, today."

Now, today.

Spencer also felt it. Emily wondered if it was her fantasy too. It probably was.

"I couldn't be like this with anyone else."

Okay, she hadn't managed much clarity. She just purely repeated the question in an unquestioning way.

"Not even with Alison? Or with Maya?"

Emily frowned, remembering Spencer's mention of her kissing-straight-girls courting style. Was Alison's ghost still haunting them? Besides all the haunting they endured already when it came to A and Alison's murder?

She had kissed Alison.

She hadn't _ converted _ Alison.

It was all a silly joke. You didn't convert people. You just fell in love with them, crushed on them, whatever; sometimes you even had the guts to kiss them. And, if you were lucky, you were kissed, even loved in return. And, if you were luckier, you fell deeper in love after being loved in return, until you reached some other state, which might not even have a name.

The state they were now, even though they looked like two girls in a porn movie.

"How could I possibly be the same with Ali? She didn't want me back", Emily answered, reminding Spencer of that particular truth. "As for Maya, it'd just be different. I'd be different. Like you'd be different if you were with someone else."

"Yeah", Spencer answered thoughtfully, "I guess."

"You're not sure?", Emily asked, suddenly concerned. "Would you be the same with Toby or with Wren?"

The mention of the British doctor made her feel uncomfortable and annoyed, the image of Spencer kissing him in the lake or running after him with mud in her hands blurring her mind for an instant before she shut it down. But she felt obliged to mention two names too and those were the first two that came to her mind.

Spencer lifted her dirty hand to Emily's face, but seemed hesitant to touch because of how dirty it was.

"No."

Her gaze was warm and limpid, the kind of which she only allowed Emily to see. Thus Emily, once again as if she could read whatever was on her mind, although she sometimes couldn't, took her dirty hand in hers.

"That's what I mean."

"I've never felt this way. I mean, obviously."

She couldn't have felt this way before because she'd never been so deep into a relationship before. It made sense. But still.

Emily didn't answer, and they stayed in silence for a long moment, examining each other.

"You know me better than anyone", Emily finally said, the firm sound of her words surprising Spencer. "Do you still doubt that?"

"No."

Spencer didn't doubt it anymore. She knew things no one could know. She had things no one could have.

She offered things no one else could offer.

"I know you better than anyone", she repeated Emily's words, "and you're… too good."

Emily sweetly smiled, making space to kiss Spencer's muddy shoulder.

"I'm not _ too _ good, Spencer."

"You are, and you know", Spencer tried to clarify her idea. "You're too good and too kind. And you're intelligent too, so you _ know _ you are too good and too kind. But other people aren't like that and you don't mind. You'll always give chances, you'll always listen to whatever they wanna say."

Emily frowned in confusion.

"I don't mind?", she asked, although she didn't know where to start asking.

"People will always take advantage of that, or they'll try", Spencer argued her point. "I've done it too. We all do. And you _ know _ . But you're still like that."

"Like what?", Emily insisted. "Too good? A saint? An alien from outer space? I'm nothing like that."

Spencer seemed annoyed at her own lack of clarity.

"You're not a saint. You're just…"

"Too good?", Emily repeated, now with slight sarcasm.

"Yeah", Spencer confirmed, rolling her eyes. "Good people aren't stupid, they know what they do and why. You're that person. And I'm the other person who knows that and who'll always try to shield you from the ones who try to take advantage."

Protection.

Emily sighed. Here they were, after these last days of sore feelings, after this perfect day of silly, lustful, crazy love. Back to the point they discussed when they fought: protection.

She knew it was important for Spencer to protect her. It was more than important. It was in her nature. And Emily was protective too. She wanted to protect Spencer too.

She wanted to be an equal in protection, but maybe it was impossible, after all.

She leaned against Spencer's body, embracing her with her arm until her right hand touched her back and lifted it to her. It was amazing how light her body felt sometimes. How Spencer could be an animal, a sexy beast, a bitch, an adorable bully, but also a fragile leaf in her hands.

They were breath to breath, mud to mud now.

"You're not only my shield", Emily murmured. "You're better than you think you are, and I'm crazy about you."

Spencer gave her a small, knowing smile.

"I didn't say you weren't." By this time she knew Emily was crazy about her. She owned the game. But that wasn't what she meant. "We're both better if we're together. You make me better."

Emily laughed at the strange conversation.

"I don't even know what we're talking about."

Spencer smiled too, agreeing. Sometimes she had too many thoughts running on her mind and they all came racing to her mouth at the same time. Those were the moments when she lost perspective and precision of vocabulary, when too many emotions and ideas condensed on the tip of her tongue, wanting to explode in so many directions, pointing at so many different things, being together, being better or simply good, even _ too _ good for this world, or at least for the world as it was in Rosewood, being a shield and a parachute as a way to become a better person, but feeling guilty about doing it the wrong way, feeling guilty but not really, because she just needed to feel she was doing it right (and Emily had the HGH copies now); being afraid there might have been a chance to _ not _ be together, the same way they weren't together for a long time and she didn't even realize that she wanted it, because the mud on her hands couldn't change that and she didn't believe in fate, because the idea of fate wasn't supported by any scientific evidence. And if they weren't together, she wouldn't be good enough and Emily wouldn't be shielded against all those people who would just try to approach her with shady intentions, shady intentions Emily would always try to understand, because she had a kind, understanding, enlightening heart; the same way she had a kind, understanding, enlightening heart with Spencer.

In truth, she just wanted to say that they _ had _ to be together, even though sometimes the fact that they were together still struck her as a surprise.

She guessed she'd been thinking a lot after their fight over Wren.

"It's happening again. I drive myself crazy when I think too much."

Emily shot her the warmest glance, and looked down at her muddy bikini and body.

"You haven't really thought that much today."

"No."

"We look like porn movie stars talking about saints and aliens and protective shields."

"And gay vampires."

An outburst of laughter took over Spencer's body when she visualized the complex image, and Emily laughed too.

But she was keeping an eye on her, the same way she always did when Spencer started talking nonsense.

The outburst of laughter faded out and transformed into an understanding gaze shared between the two of them.

"Spencer, I'd do anything for you too", Emily whispered. "Anything."

Unrestricted, unlimited anything.

Everything.

She kissed her dirty crooked nose.

"And, right now", Emily said, propping herself on the palms of her hands to stand up, "that includes taking us inside. It's getting really cold out here."

She offered a hand to Spencer, who was already sitting up on the ground.

"I guess you're taking us to the shower", Spencer said, a smirk on her face.

"Whatever you want, Smokey."

Emily pushed Spencer on the back to make her walk.

"Is that my new pet name?"

"I'll call you Smokey Legs."

They laughed again as they walked into the dark, cosy warmth of the cabin, dripping dirt along the way. They had a lot to clean before they left.

But first things came first.

They took a long shower together. First time it happened, actually. They washed each other's hair. They tripped a couple of times, almost falling. They had sex. It was an interesting new experience in the shower, somewhat dangerous because of the tripping, so they took it back to the bedroom. They came together. First time too. That was definitely a more than interesting experience that left them almost speechless because they hadn't been doing anything fancy, anything complex. Just them. Give them a bed and new things kept happening.

They went to the kitchen and cooked spaghetti to eat as an early dinner or a very late lunch. While they cooked, they talked about different things; they teased and played, and the vegetables burned a little when they spent too much time invested in kissing.

Now, today.

It was a whole day dedicated only to them. They had time on their hands, time to make out and have sex and talk and tease and play, along with some breaks for drinking and eating.

They ate.

They cleaned the cabin, picking up the sheets, sweeping the floor, cleaning the kitchen and the bathroom and everything they'd used.

The day was ending.

It was time to go home. Cinderella time. Glass heeled shoes time. Pumpkin carriage time.

Emily was staring out of the window, looking at the darkening clouds in the horizon, the sun already hiding. Red, yellow and blue mixed and fought in the sky. After all, no storms had come. Whatever was coming, it would come later. But the day was ending anyway.

She had a melancholic feeling, the kind of sadness that you feel when the summer, which seemed endless at the beginning, is running away, dangerously slipping away from your hands and you're regretting the times you thought it was boring and endless and you could stretch it forever. She felt lazier than ever. She felt sad, because there was no way to slow things down now, even though things used to be so slow just some weeks ago.

Spencer approached her and leaned against the window too, looking at her.

"Ready?"

Emily nodded, but her eyes gave her away and Spencer got closer.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'd just love to stay longer."

"Me too", Spencer agreed. "If you hadn't gotten so mad at me, we could've spent the whole weekend here."

She prayed she hadn't put a foot on her mouth after making that sound as a reproach.

Emily did frown a little, but let it pass.

"We'll come back", Spencer insisted, taking Emily's hand. "Sex under the blankets."

Emily smiled at Spencer's funny way of cheering her up.

"Is that all you ever think about?"

"Look who's talking."

A slight mischief showed in Emily's features, but she was too sad about both the day and the summer ending; it felt as if they were ending at the same time.

"We'll be fine", Spencer insisted again, somehow guessing Emily's reasons. "It'll be a good year."

"What if it's not?"

"It's gonna be a good year, Em", Spencer assured. "We're together."

Yes, they were together. It was going to be a good year. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Crossfire", song by Brandon Flowers.


	20. Smiles And Sparks

People steadily rushed from one class to another in the crowded halls, stopping by to greet or chat or grab coffee during the break, an explosion of life behind closed walls. People like Emily and Spencer. People like other people. Still in the first week of school, everybody was excited, skins slightly tanned, voices too pitchy, bodies too warm and playful while they held the last remnants of the summer. Swarming, bursting in energy after the bell rang, laughter and screams crashed against the walls and travelled through the air of the halls, the rumour becoming strident and strong, louder than it would get during the rest of the year, when the mood would cool down and become a persistent hiving sound prepared to resist the changes of temperature and the successive pass of days and weeks and months, of lectures and homework and exams. The summer was still fighting to stay, subjecting everybody to its magical spell: teachers as well, making them a little too slow and a little too smiley while they greeted the students or grabbed coffee for themselves to drink it quickly on their way to the teachers' room. Summer wasn't dying without putting up a fight. But summer would first turn into a memory, then into a dream until next summer arrived.

Spencer wasted some time saying hello to her former Russian History teacher, whom she stumbled into when she left her French class on her way to meet Emily.

Emily herself was gracefully galloping to her locker to retrieve a forgotten book before meeting Spencer in the waiting line to the cafeteria.

She opened her locker and quickly placed the Calculus book on her backpack, intensely concentrated on her actions before galloping away again, when she felt a familiar presence around. Familiar, but not overly familiar and indeed kind of blurred after two months of not seeing each other regularly, still recognizable, she looked up knowing she was going to find Paige MacCullers by her side, her hair longer now and her skin golden like everybody else's.

She instantly smiled as a greeting, in an automatic, naturally learned gesture, and Paige smiled back shyly when their eyes met. They hadn't talked since early that summer, and Paige hadn't yet returned to swim practice.

"Hey", Paige said.

"Paige, hey", Emily greeted directly. "What's up?"

"Adjusting", Paige answered, shrugging her shoulders in a laid-back manner but offering a bright, somewhat confident smile. "Just like everybody else, I guess."

"Yeah, you bet", Emily agreed while closing her locker. She wondered nervously if Spencer was already waiting in line, and couldn't help catching herself looking over Paige's shoulder to hopelessly get a sight of her girlfriend in the middle of the crowd, but she wasn't there and Emily felt instantly guilty both about Spencer's potential waiting and about Paige's expectant look in front of her. "How was your summer?"

"It was great, thanks", Paige replied, then smiled a little more awkwardly, as if realizing her presence needed some kind of justification beyond small talk. "I hope yours was too."

"It was really good, yeah", Emily said, sunnily like the summer that had just gone by. "What did you do? I haven't seen you around for ages."

Small talk would do for a second before excusing herself, Emily thought.

"Yeah, I know", Paige accepted, wondering about the best way to actually direct the small talk towards the real topic why she'd approached Emily. She wasn't that good at small talk anyway. "I'll tell you more later. If we have time."

"Yeah, 4.30."

Emily thought this was her cue for escaping at the very moment they both heard the type of cough that was a sign of someone calling for attention.

As if Spencer Hastings needed to cough in order to claim attention back to her.

Her imposing, composed presence was always more than enough, and Emily's face instantly lit up in a kind of harmonic response at the unexpected sight of Spencer. This didn't really surprise Paige, because she'd already seen this sort of reciprocal lighting-up facial work-out that happened to both of them whenever Spencer started coming to pick up Emily at swim practice right before the summer. Anything she thought she saw when Emily was dating Maya… well, it wasn't exactly like this. Especially right now. This, right now, was a brighter light than the one Paige had seen before, back when Emily dated Maya but also back in spring, when she realized Emily and Spencer weren't "just friends" anymore. This, right now, felt stronger somehow. Maybe it was because of the impact the summer had left on their bodies, although most probably it was because they were, right now, in that stage when they were all smiles and sparks around each other. There was definitely more light than the last time she'd seen them together; and Paige felt almost blinded by the sight of the sparks flying, but also suddenly pushed far away in the hall, as if she'd been sucked out of the scene because she didn't belong to it; which she didn't, actually, even though she was there to say something to Emily.

Having already been caught in a couple of occasions, always in the pool though, in the middle of the light these two shared, Paige knew what was going to happen next, and so she turned a little in Spencer's direction in order to greet her: there she confronted Spencer Hastings' infamous death stare, briefly cutting her skin like a winter wind before acquiring that warmer, softer shade that was only for Emily when her eyes naturally rested back on the taller girl's face.

"Hey, Spencer", Paige greeted.

"Hi."

Spencer sounded polite but hardly amiable.

"Did you go to the cafeteria?", Emily asked Spencer, suddenly oblivious to Paige's presence, " cause I was going there now."

"No, I ran into Mr. Sheldrake", Spencer quickly replied, slightly invading Emily's personal zone without really leaning in for a kiss, because she wasn't totally sure she'd enjoy it in front of a stranger. "And then I saw you here."

Emily's comfort zone lit up even more after Spencer's invasion, as a natural result of their progression to cosmical love.

"I was afraid you'd be waiting."

And this was when Paige knew she had to flee, although she'd actually approached Emily for a concrete purpose.

"Em", Paige called, feeling guilty about the interruption and instantly receiving a death sentence in the form of a glance after the use of the shortened, highly intimate name. "Sorry to interrupt."

"No, it's fine", Emily replied, realizing Paige's presence again. "I'll see you at 4.30, right?"

"It's actually at 5", Paige finally managed to blurt out. "Coach told me to tell you so you can tell everybody else. Something came up and… whatever", she rambled, Spencer's death sentence less deathly now, "I ran into her and she told me to get you and tell you."

"Oh, okay", Emily smiled, "thanks. I'll text everybody. Is she all right?"

"I've got no clue", Paige tried to laugh it off, knowing it was time to leave. "Anyway, I'll see you there later, okay?"

A nod confirmed it, followed by the verbal articulation. "Yeah." Then Paige MacCullers said goodbye to both of them and left, disappearing into the crowd, expelled from the movie of their lives.

"Em", Spencer called out softly, still watching the crowd where Paige had disappeared, "since when does she call you that?"

Emily, who was also looking into the crowd, fixed a mocking, warm gaze back on Spencer, a extremely light-hearted death sentence hanging on her eyes too.

"She doesn't call me _that_."

Spencer returned the gaze, no death sentence; only a light, happy heart.

"She just did."

"Would it really kill you to be nicer?", Emily replied instead of answering the question.

Paige didn't usually call her Em. She'd probably just blurted it out without realizing.

"Yeah", Spencer smirked, twisted smile and all, "I'd be instantly struck down and killed by an abdominal aortic aneurism, and you don't want that."

Emily rolled her eyes very slightly, trying to figure out if you could die instantly if you were struck by something with such a long name.

"Sometimes that's exactly what I want."

Spencer chuckled, taking a fake offense at the same time.

"Wishing me a sudden death? Are we grumpy today?"

But Emily didn't look grumpy. She looked just… plain gorgeous.

"No", Emily replied, grabbing Spencer's hand in a subtle move, "I'm not asking you to like her, I'm just saying you could be nicer."

"I _was_ nice", Spencer defended her position, "I said hi. That's pretty nice, in my opinion. I don't get that from a lot of people". Emily rolled her eyes again, which only worked as fuel to Spencer's joking habits. "Some people lick my boots when I walk by, but others plainly ignore me, you know. And it hurts so much I cry all through the night."

Another, more evident eye-roll followed after Spencer's gross attempt at whiny sarcasm. However, no matter how many exasperated eye-rolls Emily could dedicate to Spencer, sparks were flying out of her and Spencer saw them too.

"She has a name, you know. There's no need to kill her with your eyes every time you say hi."

"I don't kill anyone with my eyes", Spencer half lied, shrugging it off.

Her death stare was a gift from nature and she wasn't giving it back. And it wasn't as if someone actually died from it, unfortunately.

Emily approached her more, making sure of an intense proximity between both of them so she could use her recently acquired superpowers. It was true she wanted Spencer to be nicer but, mainly, she did it because it was cool to put her powers in motion like this. She could never get tired of exercising that kind of influence over a person like Spencer, especially if other people were around to act as distant witnesses of it. Already feeling the stolen glances at their mutual invasion of space, she just stayed there, even though she wouldn't normally like that kind of attention dedicated to her.

"I'm the captain of the team and you're my girlfriend", Emily explained, her tone soft, her sweet breath slightly touching Spencer's ear, "and she's in the team. Now you have an obligation."

"I have an obligation because you're the team captain?" Spencer blinked, actually giving it some thought. Emily's powers did work, after all. "Or because I'm your girlfriend?"

"Both."

The well-known lop-sided smile revealed Spencer's pleasure both with Emily's argument and near presence.

"Do I have to be nice to everybody you have an obligation to?", she asked for clarification, but mainly because she wanted Emily to keep working her magic.

"Yep."

Spencer laughed a little.

"Okay then. I guess I'll say her name next time."

"I knew you'd come into your senses."

"What are you gonna give me in return?"

"A cookie?"

Spencer laughed again, this time drily, although if she were truly a dog she'd be undoubtedly moving her tail in expectation. Since she didn't have a tail, though, she leaned against Emily's locker wondering about how much longer she'd have to wait for a kiss, wondering if she should just lean in and steal it despite the enormous amount of people who were passing by.

She decided on subtly hinting at the kiss with another joke.

"So what were you doing here?"

Emily leaned against her locker too and stared at Spencer, delighted with the game.

"I was picking up a book."

"And what else were you doing?"

"I was… preparing to run my guts off to the cafeteria to find you."

"Really?" Spencer raised her brows, pleased with the results of her interrogation. "And why would you do that?"

"Because we said we'd meet there."

"Hmmmm", she hummed thoughtfully. "And why was that?"

"I don't know", Emily teased, running out of ideas. "To get a kiss, right? Is that it?"

"Gotcha", Spencer laughed, leaning in now to steal a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.

It was so quick and chaste it went almost unnoticed not only to the general population of Rosewood High but also to Emily.

"Is that all you want?", Emily asked, feigning seriousness.

"That and coffee."

"You don't ask for a lot."

"I'm low maintenance."

Emily gave a little, knowing smile. "Sure."

"What? You don't think so?"

"No", Emily replied confidently, much to Spencer's surprise. "What about me?"

Spencer was caught off guard by that question, still thinking about Emily's denial of her low-maintenance condition as a girlfriend.

"What about you?"

"I want a bigger kiss than that", Emily said, tugging at Spencer's sleeve to signal she was actually expecting something else.

They both hesitated, though, at least until Spencer tugged back and they started walking towards the restroom, which was now deserted because most people had already fled somewhere else after crowding it in the first minutes of the break.

As soon as they entered the restroom, wordless communication took over. A brief glance to herself in the mirror, Emily checked everything was okay with her appearance, even more than okay, because this time she had to admit she _was_ kind of glowing, while Spencer checked there was no one in any of the three free cubicles. Then they checked each other out before smiling and entering one of the cubicles together, the most distant one from the door.

Spencer pinned Emily against one of the walls in the narrow space.

"So I'm not low-maintenance?", she murmured, looking into Emily's eyes. "What are you trying to imply?"

"I'm trying to imply you're high-maintenance", Emily joked, also in a whisper.

"Funny", Spencer reiterated, parting her lips for the deeper, bigger kiss Emily had solicited. But she broke it off soon to keep on talking, because there were ideas on her mind. "The way you put it, I'm easy but I'm high-maintenance. You don't make any sense. I should be easy, which in careful consideration also means easy to _content_."

"You're easy in certain ways", Emily teased, trying not to get into a big mess, "but you're hard to please in other ways."

"Where's the hard work when I only ask for a kiss once in a while?"

"It's here", Emily replied mysteriously, softly nipping Spencer's lips with her teeth. Then she decided to explain. "You said we had to meet after every class. And that requires a lot of hard work and time and dedication on my part."

Spencer had insisted they both had to see each other in between classes, even if it was for two minutes, a brief chat and a quick kiss. Her reason was that she couldn't focus if they hadn't talked before, which Emily found totally adorable, albeit strange. But she liked those little breaks too, even though she had to keep running from one class to another and then to the next one to be able to do everything she was required to do in time. She was lucky they shared three classes this year.

But, between that and the ever-growing set of dating rules, Emily thought she could actually state her high-maintenance point pretty convincingly.

"You're the one who likes to be kissed in certain, very specific ways", Spencer tried to argue, her knees already weakening at the feeling of Emily's teeth on her lips, "and in certain and specific places."

Emily frowned, a little confused.

"Which places?"

"This is a restroom."

"Yes", Emily paused, "where you came."

Oh, double meaning.

Even though Emily meant it innocently, because it'd been Spencer who led the way to the restroom after Emily said she was expecting a bigger kiss, Spencer blushed furiously in shame and pleasure at the remembrance of Texas.

Emily giggled in late realization.

"Would you like me to do something now?"

Emily couldn't keep herself from being a little wicked, and she moved her hand down to Spencer's knee, although she didn't have the intention of sneaking it up at all. She just did it for the tease. Besides, Spencer was wearing pants today.

"I'd like you to stop it", Spencer pleaded in her raspiest voice. Then she took a deep sigh. "You're gonna make me flunk all my classes. Are you prepared to take the blame?"

"Yeah", Emily agreed, even though she wasn't prepared to take the blame at all.

She was still nipping and nuzzling Spencer's lips when Spencer decided it was time to deepen the kiss again, and so their tongues slightly brushed and played inside their mouths.

A few minutes passed. They lost count of the time. Even of any other sounds.

All the while Emily fought herself to actually keep her hands quiet, away from falling into the temptation of exploring Spencer's free skin. It was hard to resist, especially whenever Spencer let out a very subtle, delicate sigh against the kiss. But her thing with restrooms was over. It was over. Especially at school, it _had_ to be over.

"Seriously", Spencer repeated throatily when they stopped to breathe, "I won't make it to an Ivy League college like this."

"Weren't you settled on Princeton?"

"My parents are settled on Princeton, but I'm not settled on anything right now", Spencer playfully complained. "I might go to Hanna's college to attend fashion design for all I care right now."

"Hanna's college", Emily repeated. "Aria should go there too. They probably offer a whole study on feather designs."

"Aria's gonna study Art. Or Psychology. Or Literary Theory", Spencer said. "And I already gave her that belt."

Emily smiled, satisfied to know the feathered belt Spencer had bought at the beginning of the summer had finally found its most natural place in the world: Aria's closet.

"Good girl", she applauded. "Anyway, I'm the one who's gonna flunk all of my classes if we keep doing this. Remember I'm dumber than you."

"You can come to Hanna's college too."

"You think?", Emily said, contemplating the possibility. "I don't have the same sense of fashion you guys have. They won't take me and I'll have to go… Where will I go? Lesbian school."

"With me", Spencer concluded as the most obvious thing.

"You're going to Hanna's college", Emily argued. "But I have to study something. Can I get rich with a degree in Lesbianism?"

"I'll bring you to Hanna's college with me and Aria", Spencer insisted. She didn't like the idea of a Lesbian school where Emily would go alone. No, she detested the idea. "I'll teach you how to sew your own clothes."

"Boring", Emily concluded, nipping Spencer's chin now. "No. I'll have to find something else. Or else I'll stay in Rosewood forever. Ugh."

"Sewing isn't boring."

"Did you hear the bell already?", Emily asked, a little concerned they might've missed it.

Spencer denied with her head, so they went for another kiss, which they were already deepening when they jumped at the sound of a singularly sweet and melodious voice.

"Ladies", the oddly familiar voice singsonged, "I think you should stop having sex in a public restroom."

And that was how Hanna's college drove them back to Hanna's voice as well as to Hanna's actual existence.

"Shit." Spencer opened the door, already scowling at Hanna before even seeing her face. "Hanna, you almost gave me a heart attack."

The blonde smiled at them from her position against the washstand, the back of her head reflected in the mirror, flooding the room with a multiple effect of blond curls.

"Dead while having sex in a restroom", she deadpanned, "that's a good end for you, Spence."

"We weren't having sex", Emily protested, scowling at Hanna too from behind Spencer's back. "We're just kissing."

"You didn't sound like just kissing", Hanna replied, scowling her best mock scowl too and grabbing Spencer's hand to drag her out of the restroom. "You guys should be more careful. Anyone could hear you. Even A could hear you."

She tried to sound serious now, as if she was really concerned about it. Which she was, despite the fun of actually (finally!) catching these two in a seriously compromising situation after so many months of fruitlessly trying to walk in on them. Woohoo.

" _Even_ A?", Spencer asked sarcastically. "A's probably hearing everything anyway." She looked up at the ceiling and saluted at an invisible figure with her hand in the air. "Hey, A. Fuck off."

"So I'm right", Hanna whispered in a rather loud way.

"You're not, cause there's nothing going on."

Hanna crossed her arms now and stared first at Spencer, then at Emily.

"You _were_ having a pretty heavy make-out session in there _after_ the bell rang", Hanna finally explained, all serious and concerned now, "and you were talking about… things I wish I hadn't heard."

"The bell rang?", Emily asked in horror.

"What did you hear?", Spencer said, feeling a certain kind of horror too. "We were whispering."

"If that's the way you whisper", Hanna whispered loudly again, "I'm not surprised A always knows what we're gonna do next."

Spencer took offense in that.

"Oh, funny, funny, look who's talking now. The girl who spies on her noisy heels."

"At least I don't whisper about flunking classes while I'm having sex at school."

"Hanna", Emily called out, "we were _not_ having sex."

"But you wanted to."

"No!"

"What did you hear?", Spencer asked again, mainly alarmed about the restroom-sex part of the conversation.

"All the way from my college, thank you, is it really mine? Like, does it have my name and all?" Hanna mocked, then continued reciting. "Aria's feathers too, Spencer's sewing clothes. Oh, and you flunking all of your classes, Em, which you're obviously gonna do if you keep skipping them to get your degree in lesbian-sex-in-the-restroom."

Emily's eyes went incendiary, as well as the rest of her face.

"We were _not_ having sex in the restroom", she repeated, already high pitching, "we are fully clothed."

"But you wanted to", Hanna winked again, clearly enjoying Emily's increasing scowls and glares. Emily had gotten so easy to tease lately, while Spencer had progressively gotten more immune to her jokes. Not totally immune, though. She could still make her tremble sometimes. Or make her ears talk in red. It was a shame she was wearing her long hair down today. They were funny when they both blushed at the same time. "By the way, thanks for sending me to fashion design. I appreciate that as a proof of real friendship."

"That was me", Spencer said, "and you're welcome."

"Where's that Hanna Marin's Fashion College?", Hanna asked, looking at Spencer now. "Students will be allowed to have sex in the restroom."

"Jesus!", Emily cried out in despair. "I'm going to class."

She initiated the movement to leave, but Spencer shot her a pleading, sheepish look.

"What?", she asked in a completely different tone.

"My coffee."

"We can't go for coffee now, Spence, we're late", Emily explained, "but I'll get you one after class, okay?"

High-maintenance: now she had to run after a class she was already late for, grab coffee, and take it to Spencer's next class. She should get a degree in Pizza And Coffee Delivery instead of in lesbianism, maybe, if she ever made it through senior year.

Hanna shot Spencer another mocking glance.

"Don't worry, Spence, she'll give you more caffeine kisses in…", Hanna checked her watch, "half an hour."

"God, are you serious?" Emily's eyes opened wide, wondering if Hanna was right about the time. "I'm leaving."

She planted a brief kiss on Spencer's cheek and ran out of the restroom after slightly glaring at Hanna one last time.

"Look at her running away."

"You made her", Spencer scolded Hanna. "What time is it really?"

"We're only five minutes late."

"I knew you were lying."

"The bell rang anyway."

"And why aren't you in class?", Spencer asked, fixing her hair while she looked at herself in the mirror.

"Because I caught you guys making out and that's way funnier."

Spencer rolled her eyes, but not really. As long as Hanna had not caught any part of the conversation about the restroom "sex", she was safe.

Suddenly, the door flung open again as Aria entered the restrooms too. Big eyes flashed in both curiosity and outrage.

"What are you guys doing here? Bell already rang."

"And why aren't you in class?", Spencer repeated.

Besides, Aria's next class was with Emily. What was she doing here?

"I just saw Emily wildly running to class and she told me you guys were here."

"Did she look scared?", Hanna wickedly asked.

"No, but she looked stressed", Aria answered, not really knowing what Hanna meant. "She was also a little weird with me. Did something happen? Is it A?"

"No, it's not A." Hanna was quicker than Spencer to offer a reply. "It's Spencer and Emily making out in a restroom."

Aria's big eyes went bigger with the comment, but she looked at Spencer for confirmation.

"We were just kissing", Spencer calmly said. "It's no big deal."

"I heard moans."

"Oh, come on", Spencer retorted, while Aria almost covered her ears and Hanna laughed.

"Okay, I didn't hear moans", Hanna took it back. "But some _stuff_ was going on in that restroom and you can't deny it."

"Do you want a microphone to announce it to the rest of the school?"

"Yeah, have you got one?"

They looked at each other in defiance, but they burst out in laughter right away.

"Why was Emily acting weird?", Aria asked now, trying to figure out the clues.

"She wasn't weird", Spencer explained, "she was just pissed at Han."

"She was pretending to be pissed at me", Hanna gave her own explanation, "but she was a little too horny to make me believe it."

"Han!", Aria exclaimed, somehow acting as Emily's defender.

 _Horny_ and _Emily_ were words that might go together in the same sentence whenever there was a private situation between Emily and Spencer, but they weren't words Aria needed to _hear_ together in public. She had a vivid imagination. And she didn't need to picture that kind of thing, even if she knew it was a reality.

"It's true", Hanna replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Look at Spencer. She's smiling. She knows I'm right."

Spencer's mouth did indeed show the slightest shadow of a forming smile. But she wasn't going to admit it.

"I'm not smiling."

"You are."

"You _are_!", Aria exclaimed again, her pouty lips forming an O. "Em's gonna kill you if she finds out you're actually laughing at Hanna's jokes."

"I am not laughing at Hanna's jokes", Spencer slowly protested, "and she's not gonna find out because, if she does, I'll make sure you two die right before me."

Thus, the matter was settled. No one would squeal.

Although Spencer was indeed kind of laughing at Hanna's jokes. First, because nothing was really going on in that restroom. Second, because Hanna was sometimes kind of funny. Third, and more importantly, because she was happy. Maybe being happy was what made her think Hanna was funny. Everybody was funny in their own way. Aria was funny when she covered her ears and defended Emily. Emily was funny when she glared at Hanna and blushed, giving too much away. Hanna was funny when she desperately tried to push all the buttons at once to see which one would make them blush. Everything was funny. Emily was funny. Life was funny. School was funny.

Shit, school.

School was funny in a completely different way. School was funny when you got to listen to the teacher. Oh, how she used to love school before she started making out in restrooms.

They had to go to class.

Spencer pushed Hanna on the back and grabbed Aria's arm to force them to get out of the restrooms. Once they were out, the three of them flew off in all directions, each one to her own class.

In her Psychology class, Emily was already quietly sitting when Aria entered the class and received a scowling look from the teacher. It was the first week of classes and so that would be all. She sat a couple of seats in front of her and surreptitiously turned around to wink at her. Emily smiled back, and then continued taking notes as the lecture progressed. Only five minutes before the class ended, when Emily was already mentally collecting herself to initiate her run to grab Spencer's coffee and meet her in the next class, which was a class they had together, thankfully, her phone vibrated in her bag. Ever since she started dating Spencer, she wasn't putting the phone on mute mode, just in case she received love messages of one or another kind. Maybe it was Spencer declaring her love for her and coffee. Maybe it was Hanna apologizing (sure) or rather asking for whatever favor. Maybe it was… damn, she just remembered she had to text her teammates about the change of hour.

She subtly got the phone out and placed it under the desk, betting on Spencer, love and coffee.

" _Did you believe it'd be so easy for you to get away? You really are the sweetest one. Don't tell Spencey I said hi._ – A"

This was an unexpected blow, because she wasn't really thinking about A right now. But she blinked away the tears that came to her eyes and mentally kicked herself in the head for being unprepared, when they always had to expect this type of texts, no matter how much love or coffee were filling their lives. Slightly dumbfounded and a little scared, she opened the attachment. A picture, taken by a phone, of the first page of her HGH report, the one Wren stole from the hospital, the one Wren erased from all the records. A had his/her/its own copy. Had probably had it all the way since he/she/it sent Emily to the hospital with an ulcer that forced her to get her blood tested.

No, Emily hadn't really believed it'd be so easy to get away. She wasn't that foolish.

But she'd had to give it a try. She'd allowed herself to believe maybe, for once, it could be that easy.

You fool.

You idiot.

You, the sweetest one.

And now she was back at the starting point. Everything was futile. Nothing ever worked. Life, their lives, hanged again on a thread. _Her_ life hanged again on a thread. And if she pulled out of that thread, she might just slip and fall with all her life and her baggage and the rest of her, face on the floor.

But she had to try.

She moved uncomfortably in her seat at the very moment the bell rang again, signaling the end of this class. Everybody around stood up and started to move. Laughter and screams crashed the walls, traveled the air of the halls.

Summer wasn't dying without putting up a fight.

 


	21. Emily Hastings

She did tell Spencer A said hi, of course. That was the plan. Those were the rules.

Spencer's face fell upon hearing the news, very much like Emily had when she read the text in class. But she took Emily's hand in hers and tried to sound comforting, her anxiety dripping in every word because, well, once again, they had nothing on A right now. They pretty much had been trying to live, again, without A. They had barely recovered from Spencer's orange suit in the summer.

And A obviously loved that.

Emily was walking to meet Spencer after school, a couple of days later, when she received the following text. She was expecting this one. She was slowly growing accustomed to being A's main target again.

On the spot.

Because A seemed to think she was the easiest one to crack, easier than Hanna and Aria. The weakest link, the sweetest one, as well as the one-way route to get to Spencer.

She blamed herself, in a way. It was her own desire to show they could get ahead of A that had gotten her to pursue the HGH report. Wasn't it? She hadn't thought of stealing it or of convincing Wren to steal it for her back when she discovered she had HGH running through her veins. At that time, she'd just panicked; had then begged Wren not to tell her parents; had recovered from her ulcer, gone back to the team, tried not to think about it. Things had changed. Was she A's main target? Was it Spencer? Was it any of them or was it just out of pure randomness that A attacked each of them? Hanna had gone through a lot. She didn't even know the full extent of that which Hanna had endured, but she knew her well enough to know Hanna didn't say all that A had forced her to do; especially after living together, sharing a room for so long, Emily knew there were things Hanna still silenced about A. But today - it wasn't Hanna, it was her. Still – why? Why her? (But then again, why Hanna at all? Why any of them?)

The weakest link, the sweetest one.

Something had changed in her.

" _Will you have it in you this time, Em? Or will you chicken out like the last time?_ –A"

Out of breath for a second, she stopped under another oak tree, leaves starting to fall. An old lady and a guy walking his terrier dog looked at her with slight concern, but she offered a calm smile and they kept walking. She didn't need anyone's help. Not their help, anyway.

Determined not to make a fool of herself this time, she told Spencer about the text too. They discussed it, even argued about it. Spencer insisted A was bluffing; he/she/it would never take the risk of Emily being dragged out of Rosewood by her parents. Emily insisted Spencer might be right, might be wrong too. A had never shown any compassion for her when she was outed. There was no reason to believe A could not play this card, or at least use it as a weapon. Spencer said maybe, but no. A was already trying to use it as a weapon, but would not _really_ use it, because the Fields would take Emily with them if she was kicked out of the team. There was no reason to believe A wanted that, especially since Emily seemed to be such an important piece in the game. All her neurons working in fear, Spencer decided they had to keep doing what they were doing – living through it – but better, more efficiently: she called a meeting with the girls to decide on a decision regarding A. They needed to do something, to pick up the investigation, to pull ahead and gain some time on their race against A. Emily agreed, although they had nothing. Nothing to work with, to start wondering about again. Nothing to expect, only another text - for her.

That very same day, the text came when she was already in bed.

" _How do you think the Hastings will take it, Swimmer of the Year? If you want it, you're gonna have to come get it_. – A"

The text gave Emily a sense of relief. The relief of knowing A was actually playing the card.

And the card had to do with the Hastings.

For all of the consequences of being "outed" now as a cheat which she wasn't, this one was the one A considered plausible of making an effect on her. It seemed light enough to be believable; powerful enough to cause an impact. And A was right. It did cause an impact on Emily. Of course, it wasn't the worst of all of the things that could happen to her. It was worse to be publicly considered a cheat, to be expelled from the team she loved, to be ridiculed and scorned, to lose every chance of a scholarship for college; to be sent to Texas, to be dragged away from Rosewood, the place where heaven and hell collided in her life. And still – she couldn't deny it. Funny as it sounded, the thought of the Hastings receiving the proof of her cheating, which would destroy the image they valued the most about her, which would irrevocably threaten her chances for a good education, terrified her. A one-time drunk Emily could be handled; a cheating Emily, HGH-enhanced, on-the-verge-of-being-discovered Emily could not. The Hastings wouldn't tolerate that kind of imperfection in her daughter's girlfriend.

Besides, it wasn't _her_ imperfection.

She could accept coming across as weak, somehow cowardly, dumber, _drunk_. But she couldn't accept coming across as a cheat. She'd never cheated in all her life. She wouldn't take it. It was not _her_ destiny to be like that. It didn't belong to her.

Swimmer of the Year.

She was a swimmer, she was not a cheat.

She waited for instructions to come get it.

A strange, delusional hope lightened up her heart: the hope that this time A was aiming at something that was somehow different, that this time the instructions could be followed. That she could do it this time. That she'd have it in her. She would not betray Spencer, Hanna or Aria, because she simply didn't have it in her; A had better know about this already; but if it was something she _could_ do, she'd do it. She was going to do it. And, since there was hope in her heart, she didn't tell Spencer about the last text right away. She broke the promise, violated the rule, didn't follow the plan. At least, for the moment. She could always tell her later, whenever she found out what A had in store for her.

It was wrong, maybe.

But wasn't that what Spencer did when she had to make a decision?

It was wrong and Spencer was going to be mad.

At the same time, the truth of the matter was that she was doing it for Spencer, even more than she was doing it for herself.


	22. Spider Web, Vampire Kiss

The first instruction came the following morning, while in English class.

Emily blinked, not really surprised, and quickly hid the phone, wanting to avoid calling the attention of any of the girls. The text just ordered her to go to the library in the afternoon, pick up _Great Expectations_ and read it again. Well, that should be easy. It was yet another proof of A's dark humor. _Great Expectations_ was the book Alison was reading when they kissed that time in the library, although, to tell the truth, it had been Emily who kissed Ali and it had been Ali who had kissed Emily back. It wasn't the first time A was using the book. Back at the beginning, he/she/it had directed Emily to it in order to mock her confession of love, right before she was outed in front of her friends: _you weren't the only one with great expectations_ , A had said; now A was using it again, but Emily didn't know with what purpose besides making her life harder, as usual. In any case, everything had to do with Ali. Ali's disappearance and death had set the whole A scenario in motion, so she wasn't surprised A kept playing the _Great Expectations_ card on her. And then there were the two pictures of her Aria and Spencer had found at Jason's. Emily guessed this would probably keep happening forever until they caught A – if that ever happened at all. Maybe that was the whole reason why she'd become A's main target. Maybe A had great expectations for her. They were expectations Emily hoped A would suck up and spit in the form of bloody saliva and broken teeth, if she ever got the chance to get A's neck and twist it.

But she went to the library in the afternoon, the truly sweet one preparing for the sacrifice, the weakest-link heroine too, ready for the fight.

No one was there, because it was the beginning of the year and not even Spencer felt the need to bury herself under mountains of books yet. Besides, she had field hockey practice this afternoon. Spencer was keeping an eye on her and Emily knew she couldn't hold the information about A much longer. Sooner or later, she'd have to tell her about the last texts. But, amazingly, Spencer was basically worried about what Emily was doing after class, especially during the night; for some reason she thought school was a safer environment as long as Emily was kept under her subtle, tender vigilance, a vigilance Emily was deeply aware of and that she knew how to play off and deactivate. Since Spencer had Hanna to help her, Emily just had to keep herself an eye on both of them so she'd know what to do and how to do it not to raise their suspicions. It wasn't really that hard. She knew both of them so well. They were both sort of naïve when you knew how to play them, unlike Aria, who was more candid than them but harder to fool whenever she decided to pay attention to details; luckily for her, Aria was in one of her Ezra Fitz's abstinence periods and her capacity to care about what was happening around her had been reduced to its limits again. Therefore, Emily had found out that the way to play Spencer and Hanna consisted in acting normal. Nothing was out of the ordinary. She looked tense and alert, because she _was_ tense and alert, but she kept talking to them, discussing their ideas (well, Spencer's ideas) and mediating when they got themselves in one of their sudden outbursts and misunderstandings. Basically there were two keys to fool them, two things she had to avoid above all: silence (because none of them could take it) and running. So she kept talking and she wasn't running. They both considered that a big red flag, a clear sign of distress. Thus, even though she wished she could run at night, because running helped her clear her mind, it was ruled out. Likewise, acting weird was ruled out. Alcohol was ruled out. Weakness was ruled out. She just tried to keep her senses alive while she waited for instructions, hoping she could do what she had to do, hoping it'd be hard but possible; hoping it would come soon so she could tell Spencer, one way or another. Because she was going to tell Spencer, eventually. They were in this together and, whatever happened, Spencer was going to know – from her.

Inside her head, when she was thinking about it during those long hours, she established limits.

Spencer was the limit, the final frontier that would not be trespassed or broken, the sacred territory A would not get into.

Other than that, there were a lot of stupid things Emily could be asked to do in order to play A's hide-and-seek game.

Who was A?

The library was deserted when she walked the halls alone, looking around for a familiar face, touching the books with her fingertips before getting the one she'd been asked to read. When she found it in the well-known shelf, her hands suddenly felt timid and clumsy and the book fell to the floor. She picked it up, thinking about how much she'd grown to dislike Charles Dickens.

_I loved her simply because I found her irresistible_.

_I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be_.

She still knew it by heart, but her heart was not in it. All these things she used to believe when she was younger seemed now so childish and absurd. It wasn't Dickens' fault but she somehow blamed him for it. In a way, she still believed the words, although the words had changed with her. _She_ had changed. Her heart had changed.

She loved Spencer in reason, in promise, in peace, in hope, happiness and encouragement. In power. In glory.

In fire and ice.

In love.

Her eyes filled with sentimental tears that she quickly rubbed with the back of her hands.

She walked towards a table in front of which she sat, switching the lamp on and illuminating the light beech-wooden surface from where the book stood out, silently confronting her with the past, with the person she once was. Maybe that was what A wanted. Maybe not.

Emily bit her lip and looked around again, trying to spot a suspicious face.

Who was A?

There was no one around, except for a distant group that had gathered at one corner near the entrance. Narrowing her eyes, she saw Noel Kahn's plastered smile and muscled body standing out in the group, where Emily distinguished also his current girlfriend, Mona Vanderwaal, Hanna's best friend in middle school, smaller and darker by his side. Emily's heart skipped a beat. Noel Kahn. Was he the one texting her? Could he be A? Was it possible to _run into_ A while following his/her/its orders, just like that? Would A ever make a mistake, show his/her/its true colors, weaken and fall in front of any of them, of her? Was all of A's power just an act, was A just a terrified coward playing games on all-too-visible enemies? Or on unknowing, unwilling frenemies? A was not only a shadow. It had to be a real person, even if they called him or her "it" just to give a name to their despair and their impotence, it was a person and it was probably close to them. But it couldn't be Noel Kahn. He was way too dumb to be A. Then again, everybody was way too dumb to be A, everybody except Spencer, and Spencer wasn't A. But she was the smartest person around – and also not around. Alongside Melissa. The other Hastings. But it couldn't be Melissa either, right? That was a crazy idea.

But Jenna was blind. Because of them.

She couldn't be spying right now on her.

So A – where are you?

You can see I'm not chickening out.

Emily opened the book and flickered through it, stopping in page 416. _I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace_ , she read in care and awe. There she found it. A note someone had scribbled in red ink, apparently about Dickens and Pip and 19th century literary styles. People were always so careless about these things. It always bothered her to find notes in library books, like no one else was ever going to need the book and read it. Spencer hated that too, so they always engaged in a wave of scorn and indignation whenever they found a book that had been mistreated like that. But this note hadn't been written by a normal student.

" _Multiple choice test time for you, Em. Choose – your heart or your head_." An "A" signed the note.

Heart or head?

This made no sense whatsoever.

She turned the page.

" _Choose_ _\- favorite color. Is it yellow, brown or watery blue?_ " Then another "A".

God, she hated riddles.

This was not a multiple choice test. There was no correct answer.

It was a stupid enigma A was creating for her so she would wonder in fear. And she hated it.

She turned yet another page.

" _Choose – blonde or brunette. Or do you prefer to win?_

Okay, this one was easier to interpret.

Spencer or Alison?

But Alison was dead.

The "win" reference seemed to imply she was going to lose anyway. Right?

Yeah, right.

We'll see who's the one winning this in the end.

Yellow and brown were probably references to Alison and Spencer too. Then, watery blue… That must be the pool? Because A had the HGH report and he/she/it was ready to use it, at least with the Hastings.

The heart or head thing still had no meaning for her. Who was the heart? Who was the head? Or was it her? She was both her heart and her head. Well, to tell the truth, maybe she was more heart than head. She'd always been more heart than head after all.

Or maybe it was Spencer. Spencer was both heart and head. People tended to believe Spencer was only a brain, but Emily knew there was so much more to that.

Besides, Spencer occupied Emily's own heart and head. All the time.

This made no sense. And the note contained no instructions.

She grabbed her head with her hands, scratching her forehead, trying to figure the riddles out in case there was something else beyond the gross presentation of multiple love choices.

Someone called out her name and she jumped.

Mona Vanderwaal.

"Hey, shark", Mona winked, her usual bubbly, flirtatious self even though they weren't close at all. "Sorry I made you jump."

"Mona", Emily greeted back, smiling, "hi. Hanna's not here."

Like that wasn't obvious.

However, Mona's expression didn't change upon hearing the weird comment.

"I've been texting her the whole afternoon. Do you know where she is?"

"Nope." Emily tried to think about where Hanna could be. "She's probably home already, you know."

Mona sat close to her in the bench, and Emily had to scoot away a little to make room for her.

"You have an essay already?"

"It's optional", Emily lied, closing the book so Mona wouldn't see A's messages. "I'm just working hard for extra credit."

"Wow, the Hastings superhuman girl is really getting you up with her", Mona said, speaking impressively quick. But then she took a pause and looked apologetically at Emily. "Anyway I don't wanna bother you, I just came over to ask you about Hanna."

"It's okay, you can ask me. I could give you a ride to Hanna's too", Emily added, but realized it wasn't a good idea to mention that, "but I have something to do."

Sometimes she still felt guilty about what they'd done to Mona when Alison was alive. Not about what they'd done; about what they didn't do; about what _she_ didn't do.

But she never knew if it was the right moment to apologize. She wanted to do it someday, though. They were both close to Hanna and that was enough of a reason to do it someday.

Mona patted her shoulder warmly, but somehow too energetically, and then stood up again.

"Don't worry about me, I brought my own car to school", she answered, wide-eyed and flattered at Emily's offer. "But thanks. Will you just tell her I was texting her?"

Emily shook her head _yes_ and mumbled the confirmation as well.

"Oh, Emily", Mona called when she was already leaving. "There's a picture of you over there." She pointed at the hall from where Emily had come with the book. "You don't wanna lose a picture of your hot self in here, you never know what a guy might be doing in the library. Or a girl."

She smiled as if she'd said something really, really naughty. Which she had, Emily came to realize.

After forcing a goodbye smile, Emily tried not to appear terribly anxious about the picture that had fallen to the floor.

But she _was_ anxious.

She waited until Mona was farther away, and then she rushed to get the picture. It was, indeed, a picture of her; but not of her hot self. She was in her blue shark uniform, a medal hanging on her neck. Last year. Before the hospital. After a swim meet in Philadelphia. The back of the picture had a message, written in the same red ink and neat capital letters the note in the book was.

" _Look at you shining so bright, Emily. Will you make it home when you're out of the game?_ –A _"_

No instructions.

She took her phone out and wasn't surprised to find out she had a text. Those were the instructions, then.

" _XXX. In an hour. Get a girl's phone number. Use your fake ID to get in_. _It's an easy one, so don't blow it this time._ – A"

Seriously? A girl's phone number?

It was dumb.

A had to be thinking of something else. This was only a way to ridicule her and play her around.

Problem was she didn't have her fake ID here. She'd have to go home and lie to Hanna about where she was actually going.

And what the hell was XXX? A porn sex center? A make-out scene place? Because, if it was, there was no way she was going inside.

She searched the internet in her phone for the place. Fortunately, it wasn't a sex center. It was just a club, and it opened in the mid afternoon for happy hour and early dinners. Later it transformed into a cocktail place where you could chat and dance. Or so the webpage said.

She took the book to its shelf and fit it between other two of Dickens' masterpieces.

"Bye, Pip", she whispered to the book, truly meaning it, "I hope we don't run into each other again."

If she only had an hour, she had to run home to get her ID in order to make it downtown in time. And she had to change. She couldn't ask for a phone number in a club called XXX dressed in her sporty, comfy, high-school sweetie-weaky clothes. So she ran. In twenty minutes she was already walking up the stairs to her room, or to Hanna's room, and leaping on the closet to choose a figure-fitting black-and-purple dress she'd only gotten to wear in one occasion before. But it looked good on her, and it wasn't exactly a party dress. It was more of an afternoon-and-evening sexy dress that didn't totally qualify as a party dress. Probably. She wasn't totally sure. But that was why she didn't usually wear it. She hadn't totally figured it out yet. Spencer said she looked totally gorgeous in it, though, so she'd have to go for that.

In any case, it was the only one she could think of now, so she got into it without taking a shower (gross), fought with the zipper on her side (damn) and rushed to the bathroom, where she put make-up on, mascara and red lipstick. She didn't overdo it, though. But she wanted to look… more mature.

She stared at herself in the mirror, out of breath.

Who was this person? She looked older. But wasn't that the point?

She felt like a clown.

Like an actress.

Like she was wearing a costume.

There was no one home yet so she didn't have to offer any explanation. Hanna was probably doing stuff out with Caleb. So she grabbed her car keys and prepared to fly away when she realized she was still wearing her Converse sneakers.

Now, that was brilliant.

She ran upstairs again, chose a pair of heels and kept her Converse on because she hated to drive with heels.

In two minutes she was driving downtown, adrenaline rushing through her veins and pumping against her eyes.

When she arrived at the place and parked the car outside, she was five minutes early. She hoped A would give her extra points for achieving that miracle; but instead of praying for it, she checked her phone again (no texts) and looked at herself in the rearview mirror one last time to try to come to terms with the fact that she was here.

A reflection of her made-up, disguised self returned the glance from the mirror. Was she trying too hard?

It wasn't the first time she looked like this. But it was the first time she looked like this at this hour and outside a club and without her friends. She was all by herself now.

Emily Fields, you look weird.

But kinda hot.

But weird – still.

She couldn't decide, so she put her heels on, left the Converse under the passenger's seat and got out of the car, her body wavering a little when the pointy heels touched the ground.

What a great image.

She'd better manage to keep a graceful balance _in_ the club. But it'd been so long ever since she last wore heels.

Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt thick once she entered the club. Only a few people were there at this hour of the day, when it was slowly starting to get dark. But the place was dark already – inside. Or, rather, it was illuminated in all the right corners. The place would probably pack up later, because it was a Thursday and the place wasn't far from Hollis. There were warm reds and cold blues lighting the place and creating funny shadows; the music was soft and low, but dreamy and sort of airy in a way. She felt like she was floating on her heels around the clouds of the night, like she was in a space movie, like she'd been suddenly thrown into a different world and a different moment in time, but the fact was that the mission didn't only consist in getting here in time and making it inside. The real deal started now. And the real deal made her so very nervous.

She had to get a phone number. A girl's.

But there was no one interesting and there was no one _alone_ , so she went to the bar and asked for a diet coke, because didn't older girls ask for diet cokes all the time?; and that way she wouldn't be technically committing an illegal act or making the bartender commit one. Whatever. Anyway she didn't want to get drunk, that was out of the question.

She sat on a stool, gracefully crossed her legs in the air and looked at her watch, which she had forgotten to change. This one didn't really match the dress. It was a sporty watch.

How long would she have to wait for an opportunity?

And how would A know she was doing it right?

And what would Spencer say?

Her heart flipped and twisted, thinking about Spencer's death glare and about Spencer's hints of insecurity and about Spencer's eyes whenever she felt hurt.

What will she say? What will she do?

Emily fought the urge to get the phone and call Spencer, to get the phone and stare longingly, guiltily at a picture of Spencer. She had thousands of pictures of Spencer in her phone. Spencer in all shapes and forms, Spencer plaguing her phone, her life; her head and her heart. Studious Spencer. Goofy Spencer. Sexy Spencer. Maybe they could come here on another night, both with their fake IDs, because the place was kind of cool; Hanna would love such a plan. But she didn't want to feel guiltier and more longing, so she put the phone down almost as if Spencer was staring at her from it, a scowl on her face. Instead, she looked around the surroundings and caught a couple of guys staring and probably preparing their moves. Their posture was ready, she could tell. They looked like they were going to start running at the very moment they heard the starting pistol, so she quickly averted her eyes and looked down at her diet coke to stop them from coming.

The air stirred by her side.

In her imagination she rolled her eyes, thinking she was going to get the first phone number of the evening, just not the one she needed.

But when she turned to get a direct sight of the space next to her, preparing a line that would politely send the guy away (she came here to meet someone else, she was sorry), what she saw was a red-haired girl passing by and sitting a couple of stools away from her.

_Alone_.

Come on. That was way too easy. Was she sent by A?

Her mouth got dryer and thicker and she wished she could go home.

This was not her kind of game.

Human Growth Hormone.

Win the race. Win the girl.

Shining bright.

Home (but where was her home?)

Out of the game.

Heart or head.

Pip and Dickens could go their own way; she didn't care.

So many messages, so many riddles inside. So many things A had said.

Who was A?

Emily took a sip of her diet coke to try to make her mouth feel normal and stop the sudden sense of numb fear she was getting.

Power, glory, love. Peace and hope.

Spencer, Smokey, Smoking Hot.

She needed to get this done. It couldn't be that difficult to ask for a number. It was just a number.

And there was a chance A would give her what she wanted.

She had a shot. She had to try.

Out of the corner of her eye, she inspected the red-haired girl. She was cute. Attractive. And she was probably waiting for a boyfriend?

Emily bit her lip, considering if she should just be blunt and crazy. After all, this was just an act. It was like joining the drama club, which she'd always refused to join because she was way too shy.

The girl returned a stolen glance, probably because she was catching Emily's stolen glances.

Heat rushed to Emily's face, and she internally thanked her make-up and her dark skin so the blush could go unnoticed.

Maybe she did need alcohol to do this.

She asked for a beer, thinking that wouldn't get her drunk but would infuse some courage into her.

Taking a sip directly from the bottle (now, that was grace), she felt the girl's eyes on her again, so she took a breath and returned the gaze - eye to eye, face to face.

"Did that guy ask for your ID?", the girl asked the second their eyes met.

Way to start a conversation.

"Why do you wanna know?", Emily asked too, feigning intrigue.

"I just don't think you're 21", the girl said, looking down at her drink for an instant, then looking at Emily again. "It bothers me when they don't know how to do their job."

Emily raised an eyebrow.

"I'm 21", Emily lied, her voice flat and convincing, "but thanks for asking."

The girl raised her own perfect red eyebrow.

"I don't believe it." But she offered a smile when she said that. "I've had fake IDs too, you know."

"So I'm supposed to believe you _are_ 21?"

Her question sounded flirtatious and she was surprised at her own ability to pretend.

The girl smiled again.

"Oh, I am _now_ 21\. But you're not."

"Do you want me to show you?"

Now she sounded kind of bold and defiant, but in a playful way.

Maybe she should actually join the drama club.

"So I can see a picture of someone who doesn't look like you at all?", the girl returned, cocky. "She's probably Asian, but that guy couldn't care less as long as you're paying."

The girl in the photo _was_ Asian.

"I'm not Asian", Emily replied, "and I am paying."

"That's what I meant", the girl said, confidence exuding out of her.

Emily hesitated. She was so busted. But, at the same time, she wasn't. She couldn't allow herself to panic and freak out over this.

And there was a conversation happening.

That was good, wasn't it?

She moved from her stool and approached the stool next to the girl.

"How old do you think I am?"

The girl watched her closely.

"I don't know, 18? Maybe older. But you're not 21, that's for sure."

Emily felt somehow relieved.

"You should ask for a job here", Emily offered. "You're good at spotting ages, right?"

"I already have a job", the girl answered, smiling, "but I'll consider it if I get fired."

"You definitely should", Emily said, venturing a new sip from her bottle. "What's your job about?"

"I'm a journalist."

Emily was actually considering that as a major. Of course, she couldn't say that to the girl. Or to the woman.

"And what are you studying?"

The girl-woman asked the question as if she was certain Emily was still a student. Which she was. In high school.

God, this must have been like Aria felt like when she met Mr. Fitz.

"Psychology", Emily replied, because that was her last class today and because Aria was taking it too and because she was _also_ considering it for college. "I'm gonna be a therapist."

The girl-woman shot her a curious glance.

"So you're gonna get rich out of other people's misery?"

Emily laughed in return.

"Yeah, that's pretty much my ideal job, right."

She suddenly thought of Dr. Sullivan with a pang of guilt.

"It's a good job", the girl offered. "There are lots of miserable people around."

Yeah, Emily thought. Tell me about it.

"I know", she said, "that's why I wanna help them. And get rich along the way. But I'll have to help rich people only." She thought of Spencer and of the Hastings for a second. Then she inhaled air and decided to go for a bold move. "Are you waiting for someone?"

Now the girl-woman shot her a more than curious glance.

Her eyes were green. Not ambiguously green, like those people whose eyes changed of color depending on the light. These eyes were absolutely green - jungle green - wild.

She was pretty.

"No", she cautiously replied. "Well, in a while I'll be meeting a friend, but not yet."

"Good."

Emily lowered her own eyes and took another sip of beer, thinking about how to continue.

She didn't know how to do it.

There was a reason why she'd always hooked up either with her best friend, or best friends, or with girls who made the first move on her. She was too shy to hit on people.

An awkward silence followed.

She had to move fast.

Just do it.

What's the worst that could happen?

The worst thing was already happening to her.

"Do you mind if I ask for your number?", she bluntly, abruptly said. But her voice was soft and she managed a direct, straightforward look that surprised her – and the girl-woman too. "I'm sorry, but I just had to ask."

And _that_ was the truth.

The girl seemed kind of shocked now and she moved uncomfortably in her stool.

"I… I'm not into girls."

A blush crept to the girl's face, her pale skin giving her away. It was good to see people over 21 blushed as well.

"Yeah, I get it", Emily replied, dismissing it. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's okay." The girl seemed sincere. "Do you do this a lot?"

"Do I do what a lot?"

"Get into a club with your fake ID and ask for a random girl's number."

No, she didn't do that a lot.

"No, it's the first time", Emily answered honestly, shrugging it off. "I thought I could give it a shot."

The girl slightly blushed again, but Emily wasn't sure if it was because she felt flattered or because of something else.

"You should work on your gaydar."

"Well, I don't really have one, as you can see."

And that was the truth again.

Actually, her gaydar had worked with Spencer. Sort of. But that was probably because it wasn't her gaydar that worked.

They were best friends. Something else had worked.

Spencer worked with her, and she worked with Spencer. But that didn't mean she had a gaydar.

The girl smiled.

"You're really pretty", she said, kind of studying Emily's face, "so it shouldn't be hard for you, right?"

"It's always _very_ hard", Emily answered, playing along as the sweet victim she could easily pretend to be, "but thank you."

Somehow the _you're-very-pretty_ line didn't sound lame in this girl's voice.

It was probably because it wasn't a pick-up line for her.

"I'm sure it's not _that_ hard. Don't you have a girlfriend?"

The question hit her on the head, but she didn't let the girl see it.

"Well, I wouldn't be here asking for your number if I had one, right?"

This was A's fault.

She did have a girlfriend. It was the best girlfriend she could dream of.

"Sorry, you're right. I shouldn't have implied that you were here cheating on a potential girlfriend."

Emily smiled back faintly. She had to find something to say now.

"We broke up recently."

She felt suddenly terrified of her own words. Like she was tempting luck, or the devil.

But this was just an act.

She was just playing a role.

"Sorry to hear that." The girl paused, still studying Emily. "It'll be fine after a while. Experience talking here."

"Did you break up recently too?"

"No, not recently."

They both took a sip of their drinks.

Emily thought she should be moving on if there was no chance to get this girl's number anyway. But what was she going to do?

Instead of preparing an exit line, she just took another sip of her beer and felt defeated.

"I'm just staying here for a couple of days", the girl said, making new conversation.

A light bulb went on in Emily's head.

"I can show you around town." She was going to give it a last try, so she turned her charm on. Or whatever she thought her charm could be. "We have one restaurant, one university, one hospital and a couple of bars, which might indicate there's a problem of alcoholism in town, which might make me rich when I get to be a therapist."

The words stole a smile from the girl's mouth.

Apparently, she wasn't terrible.

"Or there are too many college students", the girl offered, and her eyes strangely shone. "Are you trying to get my number again?"

Emily was innocent, but she did detect a playful tone that she hadn't heard before.

"Yeah, is it that obvious?"

That was outrageous flirting on her part. She felt like some kind of monster had taken over and was driving the car.

The girl giggled.

The giggle made Emily realize it: she _was_ going to get the number.

Maybe she did have powers of gay-conversion. Hanna was right. Maybe there was a molecule or something that sent some kind of invisible fluid that trapped people inside her gay web and made them wonder about their sexuality.

She was a gay spider, not a gay vampire, because she didn't even need to _kiss_ the girl.

Maybe she was just going to flunk Chemistry if she kept making stuff up like this.

"Why don't we keep chatting and having drinks here? Or do you have to go back to your dorm?"

The question snapped Emily out of her crazy gay-molecule, gay-spider reflections.

The girl was flirting back.

But she wasn't volunteering her number.

And now she needed to offer an excuse, because she couldn't spend the whole evening chatting. She just needed the number.

"I can't stay", Emily said, looking apologetic, "I'm meeting someone for a cyber-date in half an hour."

The girl frowned in surprise. But she seemed kind of let down.

"A cyber date? What the hell is that?"

Yeah, what the hell did she mean by that?

"You know, it's when you go to a dating site and you meet a person you don't really know, just because you're sort of desperate to get to date someone."

The girl raised her _two_ red eyebrows.

"Oh, that kind of date. And you're dumping me for that?"

Outrageous flirting on her part.

Now, give me your number.

"I…" Monster-Emily, gay-spider, whatever: don't screw things up and put your powers to work. "I wouldn't like to make the cyber-girl feel bad. And at least she _is_ gay, so I don't need a functional gaydar." Wow, that was a bold one. "But my offer still stands. For tomorrow."

The girl offered a playful smirk, but blushed again a little. She was considering it.

"I had a gay roommate in college", she said instead.

Oh, come on.

Your number. Now.

"Did you?"

"I did." The girl held her gaze, and Emily realized a monster might have been working inside her, but this girl here did know how to flirt for real, not just to play a game that had been staged by a psychopath. She felt suddenly anxious. She felt like running away. She felt too young and stupid and out of place to be here doing this. "But nothing ever happened."

What was she supposed to answer to that?

"It makes sense", Emily ventured, "if you're not into girls. It's not a crime. There's no need to try."

The girl took the glass of whatever she was drinking to her lips, but her deep green eyes didn't leave Emily's face.

"How old are you?", she asked, narrowing her eyes at Emily. "For real."

Emily held her gaze too - upgrading the game. Now she got to play Aria, she guessed.

"I'll tell you tomorrow over lunch."

She impressed herself with this one.

She impressed the girl too, because the girl smiled widely and her gums showed. It was kind of cute.

"Are you sure this is your first time doing random pick-ups? Because you sure look like you know what you're doing."

Really?

"It's the first time."

"You're interesting."

"Thanks."

"You're very pretty too."

Again, it didn't sound lame in her voice.

Maybe it was because she was a girl. Maybe the line didn't sound lame in a girl's voice.

That must mean she was _really, totally_ gay. It wasn't as if she doubted it anymore, but still – this was a new confirmation of her gayness.

It was the second time the girl said it, so Emily guessed she'd made quite the impression.

"And thank you for that too."

"You're not gonna return it?"

This was definitely heavy flirting, and Emily knew she had to deliver the perfect line.

"I asked for your number, didn't I?"

A moment of tense silence followed, when Emily thought the game was being played for real.

Then the girl grabbed the napkin under the peanuts she'd been served and quickly scribbled a number.

Got. It.

Emily's heart raced wildly in victory.

"You got it." The girl handed her the napkin and Emily took it in her fingers, her eyes blurry when she read the name the girl had written down. Claire. "I'm Claire."

"Emily."

The girl - Claire - extended her hand and Emily mirrored the movement, their fingers touching, briefly, for the first and last time.

"Emily… nice to meet you. So lunch tomorrow? And you show me your real ID."

"Deal."

Her mouth was dry again and she suddenly ran out of flirty one-liners to say. She folded the napkin and stuffed it in her purse like a stolen diamond or a military secret - for A.

Then she got off the stool, ready to leave.

"So will you call?"

The girl had perceived the strange change of mood and felt abruptly unsure.

"Tomorrow. I'll take you to our one restaurant." Emily shot her trademark sweet smile and made sure to lie to her in the eye. She didn't want the girl - Claire - feeling bad. This wasn't her fault. She was a nice girl. Or woman. "Thank you for your number, Claire, I really appreciate it."

She was really grateful, to tell the truth.

She wouldn't call her, but she would show her appreciation somehow, someday. She'd name her kid Claire. If she ever had a kid. And if it was a girl. And if Spencer agreed on it.

"Well, good luck on your cyber-date, Emily."

Claire casually brushed Emily's bare arm with her own hand, and Emily realized it was not casual or accidental. It was just the game. And Claire knew how to play it, even if she hadn't played it with a girl – yet.

"I'll keep your good wishes in mind, Claire", Emily answered, trying to keep up _her_ game, although in truth she just wanted to leave now.

Claire blushed, this time more intensely, and Emily wondered what it all meant, because, really, monster-Emily might be pretty bold at this, but the real Emily didn't know what the hell she was saying.

Something had changed in her, yes. She just didn't know it was _this_.

So she made some light conversation before finally saying goodbye and leaving for the door, feeling like someone might chase her and uncover the truth of her before she had time to leave the place. But she stepped safely into the breezy, already dark evening, almost as if she'd come out of a space shift. She breathed and walked steadily to her car, stealing a glance at the club she was just leaving. It wasn't like Marianne's, the place where she'd landed when she got drunk trying to almost break Spencer's heart, but not really; the place where Spencer had found her that summer night. She felt different now. Probably what she'd done wouldn't really help her case against A. But at least now she was trying, she was really fighting, she had ideas in mind.

She hopped inside the car and changed her shoes.

But she stayed there, in her parking space, waiting for a text that would tell her what she had to do next.

Taking out her phone, she kept staring at one of Spencer's pictures. It was one of her favourite ones. Goofy Spencer, pretending she was smoking a cigarette that was actually a pen. Emily had taken that picture in the library while they were picking up some books. They had been talking about the night Spencer smoked just to show Hanna and Emily they shouldn't do it because they wouldn't master the art of smoking perfectly and because they wouldn't look as hot as her. It was true. Nobody looked as hot as her. And then, later that night, they had kissed for the first time in Spencer's yard. Spencer's mouth had tasted of nicotine and tequila and toothpaste. Her tongue was rich and tasty and sweet. Months after that night Emily had taken this picture in the library. Now she was staring at it. Nobody could be so hot while being goofy. Nobody could look so hot while playing badass. But Spencer was always hot, always sexy, always her. Always Spencer.

Could A text her already?

Instead of A, another text came and it was from Spencer.

" _Em, where are you? Can you call me back? Please. Now._ "

She felt a pang of pain in her heart, because she couldn't call her yet.

Instead, she typed a text. " _Later. My mom asked me to talk to the tenants and pick up old mail._ "

Liar.

But Spencer was demanding when she freaked out and it was better to text her back than to leave her thinking about how she was getting murdered - or about how she was making out with somebody else.

Half an hour passed and she started feeling desperate.

Really, A? Seriously?

She had to wait for five more minutes until the phone finally sounded with a beep.

" _I'm so proud of you. And you look so hot in that dress. Think Spencer will like it?_ – A"

There was a picture attached of her talking to Claire. A rush of blood ran to her head, anger, wrath, shame.

The phone beeped again.

" _Greenhouse. 30 minutes. Alone. You'll get what you want_. _Or are you scared to show?_ – A"

Even though there was not much time to make it there, Emily hesitated. Going to the greenhouse alone was a whole different thing to do than being asked to solicit numbers in public places. Nobody knew where she was. It was dangerous.

It was a limit.

She shouldn't do it.

But she started the car and drove in that direction, still considering her options.

She'd gone such a long way. She didn't want to give up now.

There had to be a way.

But Alison was dead. Ian Thomas was dead. And she had to be careful, because A wasn't just a blackmailing bastard. There was something else about A, something that made him/her/it unpredictable and deadly.

Still, she drove there, her heart beating wildly as she approached the forest.

She left the car where the road transformed into a gravel path and got out again, letting her body lean against the driver's door. It was already so dark. It was scary, and she was alone.

She took her phone out.

No texts.

There were only ten minutes left to get there.

She thought about texting Hanna, but Hanna would tell Spencer.

Maybe Spencer had been sent the picture already, so she would be freaking out anyway.

But she couldn't just go there and die without letting them know.

She checked her watch. Seven minutes.

It'd take them twenty minutes at least to get there.

She'd be alone for the most part.

She typed a text for Spencer, Hanna and Aria. " _S.O.S. Greenhouse. Don't call._ "

And, right after pressing the send button, she started walking into the forest, in the direction of the greenhouse, wondering if she was really going to get out again.


	23. The Weakest Link Wants Some Payback

The gravel creaked under the sneakers once she stepped inside the abandoned building. The sound of her own steps scared her, echoing around the mute windows and flowing around the wild plants that were growing high towards the glass ceiling, left there to survive on their own. Silence and darkness were worse inside the greenhouse than outside in the forest: her body kept making strange noises, breathing too hard, beating too fast, stepping too loud on the ground, while the light of the moon passed through the dirty crystal panels and created strange shadows and forms, branches too long that looked like arms reaching out or striking a blow. The place was creepy. It always had been, but it had gotten worse now that she was alone. Even the forest seemed safer than the glass house right now. She wished she could just wait outside, where the darkness and the silence sounded natural and not horror-movie-like. However, any chance of getting a clue or a message or even the much-needed document she was after resided in here.

That was the reason she was in the greenhouse.

She wasn't chickening out.

In lack of a flashlight, Emily used her phone to illuminate the way. Pressing a button every time the screen went off, she saw her phone suddenly shining brighter, signalling either an incoming call or a text. She'd asked the girls not to call, but Spencer had called – three times – when she was walking, almost running towards the place. Even though the phone was on mute mode and Emily didn't hear, the light of the screen showed Spencer's increasing desperation, a slap on Emily's face every time it shone in fear and anxiety. Emily could imagine Spencer screaming at the other end. If she picked up, Spencer's metallic goat-like voice when she was bearing too much on her nerves would screech and rip the air of the night, sending Emily into a completely different mood and situation. She couldn't afford to be distracted now. But she did look at the screen, wanting to know if it was Spencer or A who was calling or sending a text. It was Spencer. This time she'd decided to text, asking her not to go alone, saying she was on her way. _On my way_. Emily could hardly read the words, lost almost after _way_ , her eyes already looking everywhere around. _Don't go alone_. The words somehow stuck to her, cutting the path open to her brain, making the way through her now enhanced sensibility. _Wait for me_. Her brain seemed to be working full-mode, registering different kinds of information, adrenaline moving her muscles, readying them up for anything that could come up to meet her, forward, backward, connecting neurons on so many levels she didn't know she had, she didn't know if she was imagining them. _Em_. _Almost there, Em._ Did Spencer write that? Was Spencer almost here already? She had to warn her not to put herself in danger, but she couldn't start typing right now. She didn't want her eyes to be deceived in the dark, with the screen, under the arm-branches, under the moon-lit cracked glass. She needed her eyes to look everywhere and at everything. But everything was nothing now. Nothing was here, nothing was of use, she saw nothing but shadows and moving, blowing forms, and she was alone, here, with her multitasked, hypersensitive, overcharged brain.

_Wait for me_.

Emily inspected the cracking pots and the metallic counters where the plants grew wild.

Not only had she not brought a flashlight, she had no weapons either except the adrenaline feeding her heart, lungs and brain. But an excessive breathing and an excessive heart rate would not help her win this fight unless she found something else. But what? It was clear she wasn't going to find a secret rifle or a knife under one pot, left there by a compassionate soul for stalked teenagers who needed them for self-defence. The sense of fear, combined with the nothingness and the everythingness she simultaneously felt inside and outside, was starting to be too intense to bear, contracting her heart at too high a speed, making her sight blurred and weak and seasick before she slightly recovered her breath and made out the color white under one of the tables in the left corner. She approached the whiteness holding her breath, wishing it wouldn't be a hallucination of her brain. But there was no reason for the whiteness to be there in a greenhouse – except A. A was related to it, it was a clue, a message or a document, and the whiteness turned whiter and showed a red shade underneath when she approached it even more, bending down to touch it with her fingers so she'd make sure it was actually there.

Scratching the cement floor to grab its thin border, she took the page and read it.

Numbers and figures and letters and percentages and a doctor's name.

She looked at the back, red ink threatening to reveal what she already knew, what she instantly knew when she scanned the all too black seal at the bottom of the page.

It was a photocopy. It was not an original report.

She slowly started to stand up again, anger rushing to her head to replace the hallucinatory mood, red ink staining her eyes, blowing her nostrils with the sharp intake of air.

Red ink running though her veins.

" _I'm keeping the original, Em. You play until you're out._

_Or are you ready to die for it?_ –A"

She stood up completely, thinking fast of a weapon now that she got to see what the whiteness really was. A weapon to fight this thing. A weapon to destroy the glass above her head, to scream, to win at least one battle. One battle. That was all she asked.

She looked around again, scanning the place with her red eyes, and a fast-moving shadow briefly shone like a black shooting star, faded behind the panels, disappearing again into the night.

"Shit."

Emily choked on the word and held her breath again, paralyzed.

A weapon.

A weapon beyond the adrenaline and the red in her veins.

_Are you ready to die for it?_

She let the air she was holding out, then looked around again in a panic, searching for the shadow, her arms moving up against her chest so she'd be prepared to get physical.

But the shadow didn't yet come back.

The shadow was trying to scare her shitless (and was succeeding).

Or was the shadow a branch? Was it only a product of her imagination? Was the shadow even real, like the page she had found on the ground?

Was all of this a prank, like the one Alison played on them that time in Halloween, like the prank someone else had played on Alison before killing her?

She moved so very slowly, trying not to crack the gravel under her feet, unable to realize the shadow could use the same light of the moon to discover her shape at the other side of the crystal panels.

The shadow was not scared by darkness and silence and the echo a body made inside a glass house.

The shadow was not scared like her.

The shadow was invincible.

A branch moved, or seemed to move. It didn't seem like the shadow, but she wondered again if she was imagining all of this, her eyes so wide and sharpened as the knife she wished she had as a weapon.

A crack sounded, not her own, and her heart stopped dead.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD, COME OUT!"

Emily yelled with all the air in her lungs, and the glass trembled, reflecting her own fear.

"YOU BITCH!", she rephrased, because it did seem more appropriate to call A a bitch, the same way A kept calling them bitches. "YOU COME OUT, OR ARE YOU THE ONE WHO'S SCARED?"

Surprised at the sound of her voice, high-pitched but strong, she realized, if she was going to be terrified to death, if she was going to die for this in yet another useless effort to become a braver, more efficient and resolute version of herself, she'd better use her voice to speak up to the shadow that was A instead of remaining silent and stupefied again.

Come out.

Come out of your shadow, bastard-bitch shadow.

I'm so sick of this game.

But the shadow stayed in the night outside.

"WHO'S THE WEAKEST LINK NOW?", she yelled again, looking around the panels and wondering if she should go outside the house to search for the shadow under the moonlight. "COME HERE HAVE FUN WITH ME! I'M WAITING FOR YOU, THAT'S WHY I CAME!"

Her voice broke the air in reckless desperation once and again.

She was the weakest link because she'd come here alone and foolishly, but it would take more than a scary shadow to really break her. It was going to take so much more.

She heard another crack and turned to face the back, thinking she'd see the shadow running again.

But she didn't.

Another crack sounded so much louder this time, almost as if a stone had been thrown against one of the windows. The shadow was always so funny, so nice, and she turned around once more to direct her eyes to the door, her muscles moving fast in a defensive gesture to avoid being hit on the back.

Her eyes scanned the darkness, red against black.

The hooded figure was standing outside.

Its shadow was covered by more shadows not entirely like it, not as solid and threatening like it, not as human, not as strangely human like it, and Emily felt paralyzed again.

The shadow gazed back in calm.

But the shadow had no eyes. Emily couldn't see them. She tried, narrowing her own eyes, fighting to distinguish the figure and assign it a body, but she couldn't see eyes or face or hands.

"What do you fucking want from us?"

This time she didn't yell, and her voice sounded small and almost childish.

The voice of the sweetest one.

A lifted its black arm and stretched it in the air.

It took a moment to aim, and Emily didn't understand what A was doing. What was that? Was it a gun? Did this mean she was finally going to die? But what was she dying for? She didn't know yet. She wanted to know. Was it for the HGH report? Was that the reason she came here and exposed herself? Or was it for the game A had set for each of them? Was it planned, programmed from the beginning, was it written for her like a play, was this the end of her game? Or was it her own mistake, her own failed decision, just because she couldn't give the pool up? But the pool… it wasn't that much for her. Sure, it was important, very important, but it wasn't the actual reason she was here, she was dying here. Was it because she would never give Spencer up? Did she want to show that she would never give Spencer up? Did A know that? Did Spencer know that? Or was she the only one who knew it? Did she know it? Destiny was not written in the stars, but inside of her, in her acts. She was dying because of her acts, right? That was why.

Or what was she dying for?

Just because?

No reason.

Just because.

Just because she was once Alison's friend, Alison's lover, Alison's pet.

Was A killing her with a ray-shooting arm?

Not with a shovel, not with a gun, not with a knife.

An arm which was holding nothing but a puff of air.

Spencer would never forgive her if she died like this.

Spencer would never forgive her if she died tonight.

Please forgive me.

But A wasn't shooting a destructive ray against her. Or a gun, or a knife, or a shovel against her. A was taking a picture with its blackmailing phone. It was what A did best. Pictures of them.

A picture of Emily saying goodbye.

One second after aiming at Emily, A lowered its arm and ran away from the house, and Emily started running almost instantly, even before A moved, when she thought she was going to die, before she understood she was just being photographed and not actually shot to death with an arm-weapon; she didn't know how or why, she just started running for her life.

For her life. Against A. After A.

For Spencer.

The muscles in her thighs and calves exploded in unison, all at once elevating her feet from the ground in a splendid sprint that instantly took her out of the house. She stopped there, at the threshold where A had stood before shooting (a picture) at her, and her knees hurt with the sudden stop when her body stuck into the soil like a post, like a banner planted on the moon, the flag of Emily Fields still standing, still alive, still here and ready to fight. She looked again for the shadow, who had disappeared into the night. It had fled, again, as every other time.

Breathing hard, her breath mixed with the air outside without an echo.

I'm not dead yet.

A cloud moved in the sky, allowing the moon to shed its light on the earth.

The shadow turned, running, on the path, far away.

Red eyes, red scanning eyes saw.

Blood in her veins.

She moved again, picking up a rhythm and a wide, powerful stride that sent electricity throughout her legs and arms. She was a runner. All that running she had always done in times of stress, well, maybe she was a better runner than she'd ever thought she was, maybe she was more of a runner than of a swimmer, maybe she was just too good at this game, maybe she was really the best at any kind of sport, at anything, maybe she was just better than A. She was fast. She was an athlete. She had the body of an athlete and she was fast and there was no HGH running in her veins and enhancing her performance, only adrenaline, only pure wrath and an instinct to strike back, to get some kind of revenge, to get this thing done once and forever.

Too many horror movies had told her not to run from the bad guy.

The bad guy always caught up with the girl in the forest, and the girl ended up dead after screaming like a demon.

It was just as good to run after the bad guy.

Of course, horror movies were not to be trusted when it came to actual survival skills, but Emily didn't mind because, in truth, there was a reason to run after the shadow, and it was that the shadow was human, it had a human body, though it was covered in black, and the shadow was running and it wasn't running so fast, because Emily could see it getting closer, turning and striding and turning again, small but closer, the shadow was small. As it got closer, the shadow grew smaller than it looked earlier, and weaker too because it was running from her. It was not this all too powerful, all too destructive shadow with unimaginable skills and superhuman strength and crazy rays that came out of its murderous hands, it was a person dressed in black, running for life, running away with its phone, running away with her HGH report (maybe, but surely not), running away from the game it had set up against Emily, weakest link, sweetest voice, defeated pawn.

Her body hurt with the shocks on her legs, her breathing short and deep and fast.

She was alive.

She was in the game.

She was fast, faster than A knew she was, faster than anyone knew, even her. She was so mad.

The figure kept getting smaller as she ran, and Emily swore she could hear it breathing so hard now. But perhaps it was her own breathing she heard, she wasn't sure.

She calculated the possibilities of grabbing the shadow in the race, of jumping on the shadow and landing on its human body and then what? She had never done anything like this. What if the shadow hit back, what if the shadow did have a knife, or a gun, or a mysterious weapon that would take her down and finally kill her? But she had to jump on the shadow. This wasn't just a race to see she was faster than A. She had to be smarter, and also stronger, and better in every way.

The shadow looked back to check the distance and then turned on the forest, leaving the path.

Emily followed, jumping over a trunk and landing on a mash of autumn leaves. She looked down at the soil and saw her dress rolling up her thighs, but she had no time to fix her appearance. The shadow ran ahead, its figure hiding for an instant behind a tree, then reappearing again against the foliage, moonlight scarce now, leaving Emily again in the dark.

She ran like hell.

Her left sneaker hit a hidden rock and her balance suffered from it, her body wavering a little.

A had entered the forest to gain an advantage, knowing Emily would get to it in the flat.

But Emily was still better.

Maybe even smarter.

She could hear now the shadow's loud breaths and anxious strides on the leaves.

The sound guiding her, she turned on a tree, jumped over a mountain of leaves someone had piled up and caught a glimpse of the shadow flying parallel behind a bush.

It was so close now. So close that every sound stopped, and she didn't hear anything other than her own heart drumming in her ears, telling her she was so close now, so close.

So close.

Only her heart.

She jumped again, trying her luck over another bush in a move too bold because she fell on the ground and bit the dust, the blanket of leaves not so warm and soft as it looked when her feet were using it to propel her drive, thin branches scratching her face and her arms on the flying fall. Instead of sinking in it like she would sink in the mud or in the water, her body rocked hard against the soil and her hand sent a shock of pain from the blow.

She cried out in pain.

Something stood in the way that had caused her to fall.

Instinctively she kicked her leg against it, twisting her body to use her left hand at the form. The form was black, it was the shadow, and her nails clawed on its blackness and grabbed a piece of solid material in her hands, drawing it to her body to make it fall too, but the form kicked her in the leg and then in the chest and she lost her breathing for an instant.

Still the shadow fell, her hands grabbing the black fabric desperately.

She had A.

A had been caught.

A was this small little form kicking its legs and its hands against her. Just one body.

One against one.

The bell tower where Spencer almost died. The car that hit Hanna. The hands around her neck when she got that massage.

Dr. Sullivan's wounded head.

Alison in the forest.

Now it was her who was holding a grip over A.

A silver, metallic shining stole her sight and she felt an intense surge of pain in her right leg and her hands let go of the form for a moment, twisting to grab her damaged leg. The form took the opportunity and fought to stand up, stepping on her already hurt hand and making her cry out in pain again.

She saw the shining shine again and the glimpse made her hide her head behind her arms, curling up like a child, suddenly terrified the shining meant A was holding the much dreaded knife. Body to body, without a weapon she was going to be dead.

Was she ready to die for it again?

When was she going to learn?

It was too late already, too late, but it was so close.

She curled up completely, expecting to be stabbed, but when she didn't feel anything she heard the sound again, A's sneakers sprinting again, making the leaves and the sticks creak on its escape. Once more she followed her instincts and she tried to get up, but the shadow had already disappeared behind other trees, her advantage already lost. She couldn't see anything anymore, she couldn't hear anything anymore, and her leg was hurting now more than her hand. She had a look at it, afraid of what she was going to see. Her stockings were ripped in every way but a trail of blood stained and softly slid over her right thigh. She touched it with her fingers but the cut didn't seem to go deep on her skin, so she started to sit up trying to avoid using her left hand, which was also bleeding because, apparently, she had fallen on a stone that had wounded her palm.

She touched her forehead, which was exploding now in sudden, overwhelming throbs.

More blood.

What the hell had happened?

Standing up, she tried to breathe and think fast.

Where was she now? Was there any chance A was coming back?

She didn't think so.

A had the chance to stab her – or to use whatever weapon A had used against her when they were both struggling on the ground, arms and legs and feet and hands – and it didn't do it, it just used it to disentangle itself from Emily's grip and run.

A wasn't coming back.

She had to get a hold of the girls now. She didn't know exactly where she was, and the girls…

She tried walking. Yes, she could walk. She was fine. Her feet and legs were working.

Her hand touched the phone in the pocket of her jacket. When she retrieved it she had twenty-seven calls from Spencer, Hanna and Aria.

She pushed the call button on Spencer's last call.

Instantly, Spencer's voice sounded metallic and harsh in the silent night.

"Em", she heard Spencer catching her breath, half anxious, half relieved. "Em, where are you?"

She was also breathing so hard, almost as if she'd been running too.

"I'm in the forest", Emily answered, and her voice sounded so thick and hoarse and weird in her ears, she thought there was another person talking, not her. " _Where_ are you?"

She could hear the girls talking in the background.

"Where do you think I am?" Spencer sounded annoyed now, but it was the kind of crazy annoyance she got when things didn't go her way. "In the greenhouse, where you told us you'd be. We're all here." Emily heard Hanna saying something to Spencer. "Where are you? Tell me where you are and we'll go get you."

"In the forest, Spencer."

" _Where_ in the forest?"

She could hear the desperation and the goat-like craziness in her voice now.

"I don't know."

"Are you hurt?"

"No." Well, not really. "I just don't really know how to go back."

"Where did you…?"

She heard Spencer's voice growing distant, the sign of an interruption, and then Hanna's voice sounded in the phone.

"Can you scream so we know where you are and we can all go there kill you?"

Aria's voice sounded in the back. "Han, it's not the right time to joke now."

"I'm not joking", Hanna defended herself.

"Can you please find out where she is?" Spencer's voice screeched. "Or gimme the phone back."

"I…" Emily tried to say, but she didn't know who was now on the other end. "Spencer."

"It's Hanna, and I'm gonna kill you if you don't scream _right now_ so we know where you are."

Emily didn't really know if yelling was a good idea. What if A came back?

"I can't scream. What if A comes back for me?"

"Are you hurt?"

Now she could hear _also_ Hanna's desperation.

"No, not that much, but…"

"Fuck", she heard Spencer yell in the background.

"What?"

That was probably Aria again.

"She's fucking hurt", Spencer screeched again. "She's fucking hurt!"

"I'm not hurt", Emily tried to assure Hanna.

"Can you walk?", Hanna asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, move your ass, I'm gonna be the one who screams so you can hear me."

"No, don't scream, Han, what if A…"

"Emily, we need to find you."

She turned around, trying to remember the direction she had followed. The bush over which she jumped before she fell, or before she got trapped in A's ambush. She probably wasn't that far from the path, because it had all happened so quickly.

"Emily, just scream, okay?" This was Spencer again. "We need to get to where you are. In what direction did you walk?"

She took a step towards the bush.

"I think I can trace…" The moonlight shone again in the sky and something reflected the light between the leaves under the bush. "Fuck."

"What? Is something wrong?"

Panic in Spencer's voice.

"There's something here."

"Emily, just give me a fucking sign."

She bent down. Was it the knife?

"Emily…"

It wasn't the knife.

It was the phone.

A's phone.

It had fallen during the fight.

"Spencer."

"What's wrong?"

"I need to get out of here", she blurted out, her voice thicker and more hoarse now with the excitement. "I got A's phone."

She grabbed it with her other hand, the one that was bleeding, and started running in the direction she thought she had followed to get here.

"Let me go get you." Spencer seemed overanxious only about hearing her finally move, not about what she had said about the phone. "Are you in the path already? Did you go south?"

She could also hear her run.

"Did you hear what I just said?", Emily asked, catching her breath. "I have A's phone."

"A's phone", Spencer repeated almost as if she didn't really understand a word. "Are you badly hurt, Em?"

"No."

It took her a couple of minutes to make out the path she had left to chase after A.

"I'm in the path."

"I don't see you."

She climbed up on the path, leaving behind the blanket of leaves, the bushes and the trunks.

The trail of blood was drying up on her thigh. Her short dress had completely rolled up and was sort of ripped too. What a waste.

She had A's phone.

One battle.

Just one battle.

The forms of the girls appeared in the distance, Spencer's long arrow running towards her first, followed by Aria's tiny, speedballing form and by Hanna's blonde screams.

She walked towards them, feeling suddenly exhausted.

Their arms wrapped around her body, Spencer inspecting the blood on her head and her hand and her thigh, Aria holding her by the waist to help her walk.

Someone took the phone from her hand.

"It's A's phone", she warned, not really wanting to give it up, "I got it."

It was Hanna. She was looking at it in amazement.

"A's phone. It's cracked."

The screen was cracked.

"It's A's fucking phone, Han", Emily almost screamed, "it's not cracked."

"What if A calls us?", Hanna asked. Then she looked at Emily's dress and smeared make-up. "Why are you dressed like this? Did you have a date with A so you could make a pretty corpse, Emily?"

Emily rolled her eyes, but stole a glance at Spencer, who was silently holding her hand.

"I'll tell you guys in the car, can we just get out of here?"

"Not if you don't explain why you got into a catfight with A, Em."

"This is not a tattoo, Han", Emily exasperatedly pointed at her thigh, "this is blood on my skin, okay? This wasn't a catfight. I was actually cut, I was..."

"Don't you think we know?", Hanna screamed back. "We are looking at you here, Em, you look like you fucking came from the war in a sexy dress. We were fucking going crazy over there when we didn't see you and we saw the HGH thing with the message saying you were going to die and..."

So she had probably dropped the HGH photocopy in the greenhouse before running after A, and they had found it there.

"Guys", Aria pleaded, trying to impose some reason, "let's go."

"Aren't you mad at her?", Hanna glared at Aria.

"Well, of course, yeah", Aria explained, shooting an apologetic glance to Emily, "but I'm just glad we got her and now we really do need to leave this place. And she got A's phone."

Emily sent a grateful look to Aria, who seemed to be her only ally right now.

"And she almost died getting it!"

"A's not gonna call now", Spencer abruptly deadpanned, her voice flat and cold, "so we need to get out."

"Aren't you gonna finish A's job?", Hanna asked Spencer. "Can I do it for you?"

Spencer didn't reply. She just let go of Emily's hand and approached Hanna, taking the phone from her.

"Spencer, Em's right", Aria tried to advise the others, "we need to get out in case A comes back for the phone."

Aria figured the voice of reason would somehow make it to Spencer's still too-shocked-and-scared brain.

"Thanks, Aria", Emily said aloud now, missing Spencer's hand in hers. "We can't be here if A comes back. We need to figure out what to do with the phone."

The glance Spencer shot Emily was a mixture between hurt and icy cold.

"We first need to figure out what to do with your wounds", she sharply replied, all accusing eyes.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Spencer." Emily walked towards where Hanna and Spencer were standing with the phone. "We have the phone. We have A."

Spencer didn't say a word in response.

But then she looked at the phone in her hand and Emily could see this tiny glint of excitement in Spencer's eyes. This tiny, shiny glint, hidden behind the hurt and the ice and the deep anguish she'd endured tonight – again.

A clue.

A clue against A.

The first one in months. The most important one they ever got.

Spencer looked up, briefly returning Emily's gaze before grabbing Hanna's hand to drag her away. They all headed towards the cars that were parked in the road, exhausted, cold silence overtaking their walk back to town, back to life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In episode 2x14, Emily said "I'm the weakest link, and the weakest link wants some payback".


	24. Walls

Emily was sitting on a stool Spencer had brought to the bathroom from the kitchen downstairs, waiting for her to come back and clean her wounds. Spencer had insisted on doing that first of all. Then they'd hold a meeting to talk about the phone. Or rather to convince Hanna about calling Caleb to sort the phone situation out, because none of them was a hacker and the phone had turned off after falling and getting cracked during the fight.

The car ride to the Hastings' had been blue and silent too.

They'd agreed to come here once again because, ever since the school year started, Spencer's parents weren't home that often anymore, which was ironic in a sense, almost as if the summer ending automatically meant parents had a good excuse to disappear from their daughter's life again; whatever the case, the Hastings mansion was usually, anyway, their favorite place to call their secret meetings from the times they weren't even secret, just normal teenage fun. So the Hastings' was the natural destination; nobody raised their voice in dispute. But, since each and everyone had taken their own car to the greenhouse, they had all gone separate ways too. All except Emily, who had been basically forced to leave the car there under the promise that tomorrow she could come pick it up. She didn't really like the idea of abandoning her car in a deserted road but she had complied, retrieving her purse and obediently hopping up into Spencer's big SUV, knowing what was now expected of her: an explanation, for once; possibly more than that. But, to her surprise, Spencer had kept strangely quiet also during the ride to her house. It wasn't the good kind of quiet, though, and Emily knew. It was the pissed-off, fright-inducing, hair-on-the-back-of-neck-standing-on-end kind of quiet, and Emily had expected at least a steely look and maybe a couple of sharp comments or even perhaps a direct question before the explanation began; Spencer was never the kind to be subtle or self-controlled about the way she felt when she was mad, hurt or scared. Therefore, the lack of any cue such as those had made Emily feel wordless and beyond exhausted, like she didn't know what to say or where to start. Like she had to make a bigger effort just to start reading the situation, which was so hard right now that she was feeling simultaneously excited beyond belief and tired to an extreme, tired as she'd never felt before; completely worn out in a way, but so alive and rushed and somehow incapable of resting herself down. However, no words were coming to her throat that would put everything in a calm, analytical order, which would be the only thing she figured Spencer would appreciate from her now; because where should she start? Had Spencer received any texts from A? Should she start from there, asking about it, or would Spencer take that the wrong way? Perhaps she should just come clean from the beginning, sort of confession-like. Maybe Spencer would let her talk. Maybe her silence meant she was actually expecting _her_ to confess what had happened and why. But that also implied that Emily had to put everything in a calm, analytical order for Spencer to understand; and it was so hard to do that, it was so hard to get the right words out so everything would be clearly understood. Spencer knew how to do it better than her. Spencer was good with words and definitions and meanings and she knew how to argue in her best interest and to make her points clear and sort of self-evident. But self-evidence was far from Emily's reachable goals. It was difficult to explain the facts, let alone the feelings and thoughts that had driven her to the club and then to that forest knowing that she might end up dead.

Yes, she should probably start from the beginning. But where was the beginning? Was it in A's texts or in how she felt about them? Or was it somewhere else?

Had Spencer received the picture of her talking to the girl?

If she knew Spencer well enough, the answer was no. Spencer was a fighter and a well-worded one. If she knew, words would be already flying around between them. But there were no words now.

Only this silence, this blue and cold silence was happening now.

She heard the girls in a vague distance, Hanna's sweet voice suddenly stronger, making it up through the walls and the stairs, but she couldn't make out the words from her stance in the shiny marbled room. Maybe if she got up and opened the door… but she was too tired now, and she had to think about Spencer. During the car ride, Spencer had kept glancing at her dress with a somewhat blank expression, studying Emily like Emily tried to study her. They were studying each other. Spencer had always sort of done that, but Emily wasn't used to studying Spencer and she didn't really like the feeling, because she used to get Spencer instantly; even without words she'd know how she felt. It was so easy.

It used to be so easy.

There had to be a reason why it wasn't being easy right now.

She had to come clean. That was the reason.

Emily was thinking about this when Spencer came back with a cloth and tissue and band-aids and scissors and antiseptic and ordered her to get undressed so she could clean her up and inspect all of the bruises. Emily complied once again. She slipped her ripped stockings down and unzipped her dress, feeling Spencer's clinical eyes on her while she did the operation. She remembered she'd been ordered to do it before Spencer left, but she'd been lost in thought and had forgotten. Once she was in her underwear she just sat on the stool again and waited for Spencer's next command. But Spencer just stood in front of her, leaning against the washstand and observing every inch of her body without a word until she turned the faucet on, letting the water run cold before she slightly applied soap and wetted the cloth.

Deep in hesitation for a moment, Spencer contemplated the body in front of her, now mapped and drawn by cuts and scratches and incipient bruises, before finally deciding on the blood on Emily's head, right above the right brow.

She softly ran the cloth to get rid of the blood and the dirt.

It was a really small cut, so she didn't even need to consider covering it. It was the easy one, and after cleaning Emily's whole face (for which she had to apply her cleansing cream too, especially around the eyes to eliminate the mascara) she decided to go for the hand, which seemed to be in a worse condition.

"Where's the phone?"

Emily asked the question after some minutes of silent collaboration, her hand resting on her thigh while Spencer prepared the antiseptic.

It was a stupid question, those were stupid words.

It was obvious Hanna and Aria had the phone downstairs. But still – where to start?

Spencer didn't meet her eyes to elaborate an answer.

"Kitchen."

Her voice had that dry, metallic sound it always acquired when she was either too tired or trying to contain her emotions because she was feeling too many of them at once.

"Is Caleb coming?", Emily added, feeling so foolish again.

"Hanna's putting up a fight about Caleb. She says it's too dangerous for him."

"I'll talk to her."

Spencer seemed to give the words a second of her time for consideration, but still didn't look directly at Emily's eyes.

"She's mad at you, so she won't listen to you now."

That was all she said, and she said it matter-of-factly. Then she gently grabbed Emily's hand and applied the antiseptic with the great concentration and seriousness she showed in every task she ever focused on.

Emily was opening her mouth to say something foolish when Spencer decided to add a word.

"She probably won't listen to you ever again."

A tinge of emotion came through the words, but Emily didn't take the bitterness badly because it was a good sign. Because Hanna would indeed listen to her again. Because Spencer was talking about herself, not about Hanna.

The wall was falling down.

"But she'll listen to you", Emily cautiously replied, still pretending to talk about Hanna and the phone. "She always puts up a fight but then she does what you say every time."

They all did.

Spencer finished with the antiseptic and took a bandage out of a package, but kept staring at it, wondering if it was better to cover the cut or to leave it to heal in the open. She'd always heard the latter was better, but Emily needed her hand to do stuff, which meant she would use it and the wound would get dirty again and maybe that would delay the healing; it could even get infected. At least it was clear she didn't need stitches. Emily had refused to go to the hospital, but the cut in her thigh was probably the worst of them and she might need stitches there after all. In any case, Spencer would only find out when she managed to get there, but first she was going to clear out the hand.

"She doesn't like it when I boss her around", she finally answered. Hanna had already snapped at her when she was trying to direct her to call Caleb in order to get things moving already. "Besides, it's her boyfriend we're talking about. It makes sense she doesn't want him involved."

Boyfriends, girlfriends were always in danger when it came to A's games.

"And Aria?"

"Aria's trying right now."

Good. Aria would do it. Aria was efficient at talking sense into people.

"I still have Caleb's number."

She had it from that time she hired him to track Maya's phone in Juvie Camp.

Spencer hummed absentmindedly, but it was all for show because then she shot a purely cutting look, the first direct glance Emily had received since she was found in the forest.

"I have it too. From that other time you decided to disappear, remember?"

It did sound like a slap, as it was intended.

The talk was commencing, then. The wall was falling down.

Spencer was ready.

Emily sighed in response to the words and tried to search for Spencer's eyes, but Spencer had finally decided on the bandage and was concentrated on cutting the right length of it.

"Spencer", Emily called, her voice firm, "talk to me. You can get mad."

"Trust me, that's not the problem. I know I can get mad."

"Then what is it? Why don't you just say something or yell at me?"

A sharp, dark glance followed.

"Is that really gonna help?"

"Help with what?"

"With you."

Spencer spoke flatly again, like it wasn't really that important, but a chill went down Emily's spine upon hearing the comment. _With you_.

But the problem was A, not her.

"I owe you an explanation, I know that."

But then she should somehow begin with it.

"You owe me more than that."

Again, it sounded flat. But, at the same time, it sounded scary.

Spencer cut the bandage and started folding it over Emily's hand. Carefully, lovingly even, she grabbed the tape with her free hand and put it between her teeth, cutting it too so it would hold the bandage together.

Emily thought of the next words she should say, but instead of saying anything she just stared at Spencer's concentrated expression, the frown where her neat brown brows tried to meet, her lids half covering her eyes, helping to shut the emotions down or at least to keep them from Emily's wise intuition and acute sight, the unconscious biting of her lip while her hands worked on a designed purpose and plan. That was Spencer. She ran business in town. She liked to hold everything together. She put up a front. But she wasn't so good at it, especially not with Emily; she was way too intense for that, even if she often didn't realize. She was far too involved. Emily knew that expression so well. She knew everything about Spencer so well. And still – it wasn't easy to say the words, all the words she needed to say to her.

"An apology", Emily finally reacted, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. "I owe you one too."

Spencer didn't look at her to confirm or deny the statement, though.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

Now Spencer did look down at her and her eyes seemed tired, but they'd gained the fierce intensity Emily instantly recognized as the sign of the deep emotion she was trying to hide with her flat voice and her methodical demeanor. It was the kind of intensity that burned your skin when it meant a good thing; but it scared the shit out of you when it meant a bad one. Just like her sharpened words. People ran away from that stare and those words. People ran away from the consequences of that stare and those words, because they knew Spencer was determined and would get it her way, not theirs. And she had everything in her favor. The attitude, the means, the brain, the name. So people ran away or just took it. At least they did at school. They did in the field. They would eventually do it too (run away or just take it) when she got to college, and it would happen later as well, in court or somewhere else, no matter what she decided to do for a life. That was how it worked. And it worked fine.

But not with Emily.

As much as Emily thought Spencer could get scary, or rather bitchy, she knew her too well to really get scared of her.

"I don't know what I mean."

It sounded sincere.

Maybe she wasn't ready to talk yet. But she had to. Emily knew they had to talk. Or rather Spencer had to _listen_ to what Emily had to say, if she ever found the words.

Spencer moved away again, turning her back on Emily in order to wet the cloth once more, preparing for the complex operation of cleaning the cut on the thigh. Maybe she should just put Emily in the shower to clean the cut properly. The hand had been easier because the washstand was right there, but the thigh needed a complete rinsing and the cloth would certainly not be enough if she wanted to do it well. Besides, there were other cuts and bruises all along Emily's legs that needed to be cleaned too, at least superficially.

"You should get in the shower so I can clean this one."

She reached for the shower head, stretching to put it down. Then she ran water, pouring it down on her own hand to feel the right temperature before Emily got in the tub.

"Can we talk before that?"

She looked back at Emily again, her gaze progressively darker as the conversation barely advanced. She was losing the stiffness she had imposed on herself to get the clean-up operation done, despite all her attempts at maintaining a cold, efficient composure.

"I want to finish this before we talk", she resisted, "and then we need to call Caleb."

Efficiency was something Spencer liked to hold on to when she was feeling weak and helpless. Cleaning and dressing Emily's wounds was efficient. Calling Caleb was efficient. Sorting the phone situation out with Caleb was efficient too.

Maybe she felt talking was not.

"We have to talk first", Emily pushed farther. Her eyes filled with tears again but she blinked them away. She had to be efficient too. It wasn't the moment to hesitate and break down. "I know you're mad."

Spencer didn't deny it. She just blinked too, but her eyes were not watery or glazed.

A silence followed and Emily wondered where to start. It was up to her to _talk_.

It was taking so long to find the right words, though.

"Did you get any texts from A today?"

So this was not exactly the beginning. It was more like the middle of the whole thing. But she needed to know exactly what information Spencer had about what had happened. It'd be easier this way.

Spencer sat on the border of the tub, her long legs stretched under the stool where Emily was sitting. She looked resigned to have the conversation now that there was a direct, concrete question.

"One", she answered straightforwardly, "while I was driving to the greenhouse."

She looked down at her hands, then dried the one that'd been under the water with a towel, as if to keep doing things.

"What did it say?"

"Just that I had to say bye to my best friend… sort of like the one I got when you were pretending to date Toby a million years ago. You know, the night at the homecoming dance when you fell."

Emily nodded, remembering the night. It had really happened a million years ago, back when she was "straight" and Spencer was convinced Toby was A and had killed Alison. It was funny, but not really. It wasn't.

Spencer shrugged her shoulders before locking eyes with Emily again, a shock of wordless communication erupting, bolting through between both of them.

"Then it changed it to girlfriend, like it's a funny joke", Spencer continued. "I guess it is, in a way, at least for A."

She smiled faintly, but it wasn't a true smile, and Emily felt inexplicably angry.

But not at Spencer.

It was the kind of anger she'd felt tonight when she ran.

So many nights had passed when they thought they had to say goodbye to one of them.

"It's not funny", Emily replied. That was probably why A had taken a picture of her in the greenhouse, so he or she could send it to Spencer and terrify her even more. "Did you get any other texts?"

A shadow of concern covered Spencer's already grim features.

"Was I supposed to get another one?"

Time to come clean.

So much to say. So many things.

This was just one of them, but it was better to get it out of the way already.

"Yeah, probably."

Spencer's skin grew somewhat paler.

"What did you do?"

Emily's heart raced in her chest although she knew it was okay.

It was okay.

All of a sudden there was no air in the room, but it was okay.

"Nothing", she tried to sound reassuring but her voice came out a little anxious and shaky, the voice of a person who lied. But she wasn't lying. "I just… It wasn't bad. It's not what you're thinking."

But Spencer hadn't yet said anything. She was just extremely pale right now.

"A made me go to a club and I had to ask for a phone number", Emily said in a rush to get it over with as soon as possible. "That was all. I got it and I ran as far away and as fast as I could, just right after I got it…"

"Is that why you were wearing that dress? Because you were sent to a club?"

Oh, the dress.

The dress Spencer had already checked and recorded in her mind but not asked about.

Emily nodded, confirming the clue Spencer had collected.

"And A was gonna send me a picture?"

How to explain it?

"I was…", Emily stuttered over her words and the timeline of events and her thoughts, but struggled to order them in her head, to give them a calm, analytical air, "I was waiting in the car for the next instruction, cause I wanted to get the HGH report and I thought I had a chance to get it if I did what A said." Now she was mixing the beginning with the middle and the end. Order and self-evidence were clearly not her stronger assets, and the words had an edgy, confused air rather than a calm, analytical one. "I mean, as long as it wasn't really bad", she clarified. "But I was waiting there and I wanted to tell you myself, because I was gonna tell you later, I swear, but I just…"

Order, Emily. Not chaos.

She tried to continue, even though Spencer was growing even paler while she stared at her.

"So I got a text with a picture of me with the girl", Emily went on, "while I was in the car, and A was threatening to send it to you so I just didn't know if you'd gotten it or not."

She ran out of more chaotic words.

"I didn't get it."

"Yeah", Emily offered a little, nervous smile, "I see. I guess A was gonna send it later, but I still wanted to tell you first."

Spencer both nodded and shook her head.

"It was a girl."

"It was a girl's number, obviously", Emily confirmed, like it was really the most obvious thing. "I mean, it's A."

Spencer had listened to the whole explanation without blinking, which meant she had to finally blink at some point. So she blinked now. She seemed sort of… fine about it.

But she was still very pale.

"Can I see the picture?"

"Sure."

Emily reached out for her phone on one of the bathroom counters. She opened the attachment and showed it to Spencer, who went from pale to red in a matter of seconds.

"Did A choose the girl?"

"No."

Was that important?

"So you chose the girl."

"I didn't _choose_ her, she was just there."

"She's pretty", Spencer blurted, still closely studying the picture. "She's… You're standing kind of close."

Close?

Why was it that they always had to study the pictures A sent as if they were going to find something terribly important, something secret about the other person when they already knew the other person so well? But maybe that was the reason. Maybe they expected to recognize what they already saw in each other and knew about each other every day, all those little things they saw and knew that they wanted to keep secret between them because they couldn't be shared, because they were _theirs_ and no one else's and no one else could see them or know them…

Emily had studied a picture like that.

"I was… I think I was leaving and she just gave me her number and I was just saying goodbye."

Spencer stopped looking at the picture and stared back at her, red coloring her face in diverse shades and forms.

"What's her name?"

"Does that matter?"

"Maybe", she said hesitantly. "And that was it?", she asked now, and it sounded a little too sharp, like the name was important or like she didn't believe the explanation. "I guess you had to ask her name so you could ask for her number. Or did she just give it to you without talking to her? Just like that."

She snapped her fingers to indicate she was serious about the _just like that_ comment, but Emily took the opportunity to try cutting in.

"No, of course not."

Of course not what? Emily didn't even know what she'd answered exactly.

Spencer's dark eyes flickered between the picture and Emily's face.

"It does look like you were talking to her…" She seemed to take a moment to think about it. "But it wouldn't really surprise me, I mean, if she gave you her number without even talking to you, cause, really, who wouldn't?"

She shrugged, and opened her mouth to continue her monologue without letting Emily cut in again.

"You look great", she congratulated, but her tone wasn't cheerful. She looked down at the picture one last time. "Almost like you're a supermodel who just came out of the cover of _Vanity Fair_. Or _Sports Illustrated_. I mean, if it were me I'd give you my number without you asking, that's for sure. Anyway you already have it."

She handed the phone back to Emily, who looked completely puzzled now.

"The models in _Sports Illustrated_ are always in a bikini, I think", Emily corrected, "or in a swimsuit."

Why did she just say that? _Why did she just say that_?

The name wasn't important. The models of _Sports Illustrated_ weren't important either. Spencer was just kind of freaking out about the fact that everything seemed to indicate she'd had to talk, thus _flirt_ with the girl in order to get the number. But it was okay, it was natural. Of course the girl wouldn't give her the number without talking. And Spencer wouldn't either.

It was okay.

She'd be having the same reaction if she found out about… someone else. Wren. Yes, Wren. Wren was the main reason she would _not_ go to the hospital to get stitches.

"Well, that's good for you too", Spencer agreed with her stupid comment about _Sports Illustrated_. "Maybe you should've gone there in a bikini. Then you could've taken lots of numbers, not just one. Or maybe... I don't know."

She shook her head almost as if she found it funny.

"It was just a number", Emily tried to redirect the conversation topic. "I didn't… It wasn't what you think."

"And what do I think?", Spencer snapped. "Tell me."

All red colors gone, her skin was pale again, contrasting with the flicking lights that glimmered in her eyes right now.

Her eyes were always so expressive, so daring and true.

"I don't know. That it was worse, that I did it to hurt you, but I didn't."

That I did it to break your heart.

But I didn't.

I wouldn't.

"I know you didn't do it to hurt me", Spencer admitted without softening up. "You did it because A told you to do it, right?"

Emily tried to even out her breathing, because there was a distinctive lack of air in the room.

"It was just a number, Spencer, it was just a phone number", she repeated foolishly, struggling to complete the sentence, "so I figured it wouldn't be so bad."

And it wasn't so bad.

It was just _a freaking number_ , for god's sake.

"It's not bad", Spencer agreed again. Her words seemed to dismiss it but she looked like the attack was coming. It was strange. "You almost got killed too and that's _worse_ , I have to agree with you. And with Hanna."

Her raspy voice cracked like a nutshell of emotion, as much as she was trying to be bitter and sarcastic and to bring Hanna up to give the words the bitter and sarcastic turn they deserved to have, because she _did_ agree with Hanna on this one even though Hanna didn't know the whole truth, but she did know the truth and still Hanna was right. Getting killed was worse than flirting with a girl in a bar.

So she had to pause and breathe.

"Yeah", Emily accepted, because she knew it too and she agreed.

Spencer didn't seem to care about Emily's acceptance.

"What about the next time?", Spencer both asked and accused. She was asking because she wanted to know, but it had the tone of an accusation. "Is it… is this how it's always gonna be, Emily? Like this?"

Composure had returned to her features, but the intensity remained.

"Like what?"

Words that were questions.

Stupid questions. She already guessed what Spencer meant. But there were so many things to say it was almost impossible to cover them in a sentence.

"Like this. Like you did tonight and like you did that night in the summer", Spencer explained, linking this night tonight with that summer night, because they were actually linked, also for Emily and also for A. For the three of them. "Like you just don't tell anyone about what's going on and you do exactly like you said you wouldn't do", she recited the list of affronts before mentioning the last one, "and you lie to me."

Emily swallowed. She had lied to her, that was true. She had sent her that text.

Find the right words.

"It's not like that." Couldn't words get out the right way so she could make everything clear? But perhaps she couldn't because nothing was actually clear. "It didn't happen like that."

Spencer shot her a disbelieving look, but didn't respond.

The water was still running in the tub, filling the room with a tickling rumor now that the walls between them had built up again.

Words building walls.

She really was doing a crappy job of explaining herself.

"Come to the shower", Spencer said now in a commanding tone, "we need to cure that one."

Emily did want to keep talking but it was her body who replied by accepting the order and moving. She stood up and approached the bathtub, then bent up one knee and the other knee to get inside.

Spencer moved the shower head to her injured thigh and started rinsing it with abundant water.

It stung hard and Emily gasped.

"Is it too hot?"

"No", Emily denied, "it's just… it hurts a little."

Her body started shaking, but she didn't know if it was because the water was cold or because the wound hurt or because of the conversation they had been having. Or maybe it was because she had thought she was actually going to die a couple of hours ago.

Perhaps it was all of it.

All she could see from her position was Spencer's waves of long brown hair, which she had put up in a messy ponytail. That way Emily could see the tendons and bluish veins in her neck, because Spencer was looking down at her legs, trying to get them completely clean. The cut was deeper than the other ones, and there were bruises along the length of her legs. There were some bruises on her stomach too, but at least those didn't need to be cleaned.

Spencer inspected Emily's skin closely, carefully touching the bruises and scratches around without causing more damage with her fingers.

"If this doesn't work out", Spencer said, returning to her flat voice before dressing the cut, "you'll have to go to the hospital tomorrow to get it done."

She started cutting the bandage, unsure if it was really going to be fine.

Open wounds and cuts.

Emily couldn't care less about them right now. Or even about the hospital and Wren. She just wanted Spencer to look up at her. She wanted it so badly it made her body shake.

"I'm sorry", Emily said, almost choking on it because she really thought the explanation was more important than the apology, or was a essential part of it, but she needed to say it anyway. "I'm really sorry."

Spencer looked up at her now.

"You're the one who says people shouldn't say they're sorry if they don't feel it."

Words could be used like Spencer used them, to illuminate, to remember or to attack.

The walking dictionary.

But words were also boomerangs, right?

It kept happening to Emily. Words kept returning to get back at her.

She rolled her eyes.

"But I feel it", she protested, rebelling against Spencer's harshness. "I know you don't want an apology and that's fine cause it doesn't really cover it, but I swear I wasn't trying to do anything bad."

Spencer seemed to debate over the answer.

"You're shaking", she stated, almost surprised. "Stop shaking, Em."

Like a command could make it happen.

That was Spencer too.

"I'm fine. I'm just cold."

"Just hold on a sec."

Looking around in search of something, Spencer grabbed the towel and started drying the cut so very slowly and caringly.

"I'm almost done."

She held Emily's leg with her other hand, like that could help Emily stop feeling cold. And it would help her in another situation, because they were touching and her body was trembling because it felt cold in a completely different way. Because some things were just so difficult to say, even to mentally grasp before being able to say them.

So, in a sense, Spencer's touch was helping. But, in another sense, it wasn't. Because Emily knew she still had to say the right thing.

Come clean.

Finally Spencer put the bandage over Emily's thigh and taped it too.

Covering Emily's shoulders with the towel, she rubbed her skin to warm her up and then helped her out of the tub.

She headed out of the bathroom now.

"Where are you going?"

"To get you some clothes", Spencer turned. "You can't go around in that dress."

In that supermodel dress. She didn't say it but it sounded like that.

Then she left.

Wrapped in the towel, Emily sat on the stool and waited. She waited in cold and in anger at herself and at her lack of proper words until Spencer returned and gave her sweatpants, a red tank top and a sporty sweater. She started with the top, she was feeling so cold and shaky still. Then she put on the pants and the sweater. Spencer kept busying herself with the medicines she'd brought upstairs, closing bottles, throwing away tissue, but then she approached the door again and Emily grabbed her by the wrist. She couldn't let Spencer go. She wasn't so sure about that kind of physical touch right now, because she hated to be grabbed and touched when she was really mad, but Spencer couldn't leave yet.

The right word.

"Stay."

It was what came out and Spencer sighed.

"We have no time for this."

That hurt more than the sting in her wound and her face clearly showed the pain the aggression had caused.

She let go of Spencer's wrist, but Spencer stayed.

"I didn't mean it like that", she clarified after looking at Emily's face, "I meant Caleb."

"Caleb can wait five more minutes."

"We need to get Hanna to call him."

"Well, Hanna can wait too, Spencer."

"I thought we were supposed to get happy about the phone."

Spencer was so good at that. She couldn't really help it when she was feeling hurt.

Walls falling down, all their walls were falling down.

Was it good or bad?

"You can't deny you're excited about it", Emily counter-attacked, "as much as you don't want me to see it."

"Right", Spencer feigned agreement, but then decided to tell the truth, "I'm with Hanna here."

And it was a repetition of what she had said earlier.

"Meaning", Emily demanded.

"Meaning your death is too high a cost for the phone."

"I'm not dead."

"You could be."

Yes, she could be. At least she thought she was going to be.

They stared at each other, another shock of wordless communication breaking through the walls, cracking holes in it, allowing for the light to pass. Even at their worst, they could still understand each other.

Even at their worst.

"Do you think it's easy to be the one who's been getting _every freaking text_ from A in the last months?", Emily decided to ask now.

So maybe self-pity wasn't healthy but it was a part of the explanation.

"No", Spencer admitted, "but we _had_ a plan."

"Or to be targeted as the person who's easiest to crack to get to the others?"

Because that _was_ happening to her, and neither Hanna nor Spencer could deny it.

"May I remind you I was the one wearing the orange suit during the summer? Or have you forgotten about it?"

Of course Emily hadn't forgotten about it and she felt almost insulted by the question, because how could she ever forget?

"Because I couldn't save your ass!"

Her teeth gritted in anger.

"It wasn't about saving my ass, Emily!", Spencer yelled now, letting all of her anger out too. "It was about _not_ playing A's game. It's always about that."

"How about stepping into my shoes for a single second, Spence?"

"Don't you think I already do that?"

"Well, if you do", Emily insisted, knowing Spencer was actually trying because she was still here, in the room, and because it was Spencer and Spencer _always_ would try, "can you at least listen to me the way I've listened to you every time you needed it?"

The words were right this time. Maybe not entirely right, because they didn't help her come clean, but they were efficient and Spencer leaned her back against the wall, a gesture meaning she would listen.

She blinked three times in a row before speaking.

"Talk."

And here came the bad part.

Emily still found it so difficult to order her thoughts and _talk_.

"You can't deny", she stuttered and tripped and hesitated, "A's got this thing with me."

Articulate, clever girl.

Red colors and shades danced in Spencer's neck and face once again.

"You didn't get the HGH original report, right?", Spencer snapped, annoyed at Emily's lack of clarity. "Which was the reason you did all these things. So what's gonna happen next? What are you gonna do?"

Words that were questions because she was mad but she really wanted to know.

"What do you mean? We have A's phone, so that's what's gonna happen now."

"What if we don't get the phone to work, Emily? What if there's nothing there?", Spencer asked, making across all of her points. She was the one who was good with words and questions. "What happens when you're instructed to make out with a girl? You can call this one, you already got her number." She pointed at Emily's phone with her head. "Are you gonna do it? Or are you gonna go to the woods again so you can get properly murdered this time?"

Emily couldn't keep herself from rolling her eyes _very_ explicitly.

"I'd never do that. Any of that."

"Is that a promise?"

"It's the truth", Emily snapped too, gaining a little confidence because _that_ had been unfair, "and you know that."

"Yes, I guess I know that."

"You do know it."

"I also know you promised you wouldn't hide your texts or put yourself in danger", Spencer attacked again, hitting the same spot over and over. "That you would always tell me about these things. Which is exactly what you didn't do today."

Emily inhaled deeply and took a second to respond.

That wasn't unfair.

"I broke our promise", she said more calmly now, admitting her fault. "It's true. But I said I'd try my best and I _did_."

"You broke every fucking rule."

Emily's eyes widened at the accusation.

"That is _not_ true. I broke _one_ rule, one promise."

However, the walls had fallen down and Spencer was on full attack-mode.

"I remember you saying you knew what you had to do when this kind of thing happened", Spencer continued, so truly, overly angry right now that her breathing hitched and her voice screeched again. "We'd even talked about the HGH, Emily. You _knew_ and still you didn't have it in you to keep your promise."

Emily felt the red in her veins too.

"You make it sound like I was so happy to do it." Her voice was low, though. Almost soft, but not entirely sweet. "But what was I supposed to do? I did what you do all the time, you break the rules all the time."

No, no, no.

That was not true, she didn't mean it and this wasn't a good strategy.

She could see the fire coming out of Spencer's eyes now.

"I've never done this sort of thing, _ever_. And that's not even the point."

"You put yourself in danger constantly, you went to the bell tower to face Ian _alone_ , you talked to Fitz, you talked to Wren on your own."

It was amazing how she kept saying words that were wrong. They weren't lies, but it was wrong to say them like this.

"So this has to do with Wren?", Spencer growled, sounding almost triumphant, like she'd uncovered a secret she already knew about. "Or is this the equality thing? You wanna get back at me for what happened with Wren, is that it?"

"No."

"Right."

"This is not about Wren, Spencer. It's about me, about us."

"You know, being killed first… that's a good way to become my equal." Her voice cracked again at the mention of death, almost as if she couldn't really help it. "But you're actually better than me cause you got the phone out of it, so congratulations! You're a hero now."

She cocked her eyebrows as if she was impressed but it didn't really come out as that. It came out as a weakness and Emily identified it as that. She remembered saying the equal thing when they fought about Wren and she guessed it had made quite the impression on someone as driven by words and thoughts as Spencer.

"And I never broke a promise when I talked to Wren", Spencer deadpanned. "I never did that. _You did_."

The walking dictionary, the lawyer's daughter.

Emily exhaled the air she'd been holding in during the attack.

There was no point in antagonizing Spencer.

Besides, it was Spencer who deserved an explanation, not her.

She had to come clean.

Say the right thing.

Clean the open wounds; destroy the walls.

Face the consequences.

"It's…" Get it out. Shut the demon out. Shut your pride. "I broke our promise, you're right."

She had already said it but this time it did sound like a complete, naked admission, and Spencer looked away, recognizing the hand that was tended to her and struggling to respond something that would sound right too.

But she didn't find it. So there was no response.

"I'm not proud I lied to you, Spencer, or that I broke our pact", Emily insisted. "I didn't want to do it. I just wanted to be able to fight back instead of just sitting here feeling cornered all the time."

This was the hardest part to explain and maybe she'd never be able to actually say it right, but at least now she had gotten it out and it was coming. The words were coming.

Spencer nodded.

Apparently she understood that part, even if it made her mad.

"When did you start hiding the texts?"

"Yesterday night."

"And what did they say?"

"A was gonna tell your parents."

Spencer scrunched up her brows and shot a quizzical look, not really understanding _this_ part.

"My parents?"

Emily was opening her mouth to explain the messages about the Hastings, about the pool, about Alison, when someone knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response. It was Aria.

"Sorry, guys", she apologized, "but if you really wanna do this I think you should both come down before it's too late. Or at least you, Spencer."

She didn't want to make Emily come down if she was feeling too weak or exhausted.

Spencer seemed a little confused with the interruption and the change of topic, as if she'd forgotten about Caleb and Hanna for a moment. But then her face acquired that focused, alert expression she always had when there was something to do that required her attention.

The walking dictionary, the superhuman girl.

"We'll be right there in a sec", she said to Aria. "What does Hanna say?"

"She's still saying no, but she'll take it if we really push her. I feel kinda bad about doing it alone."

Yes, it wasn't fair that Aria was doing it alone.

Spencer and Emily locked eyes, they were thinking the same.

Shocks, bolts of communication like electricity frizzing the air in the white shiny room, shattering the furniture around them, bringing down the walls.

"We have to go", Spencer stated in Emily's direction, "we need to do this."

Aria carefully sneaked out and left them alone again.

"Spencer, I can stay tonight if you want", Emily said before they left the room, "to talk. I wanna explain…"

"What about Ms. Marin?", Spencer interrupted.

The world.

There was a world out there where they were teenagers subjected to schedules and rules.

"I'll probably be grounded during the weekend, but…"

"No, I'll need you during the weekend", Spencer interrupted again, "for this. We don't know what's gonna happen now."

What was going to happen now?

Emily nodded.

Spencer was right.

Maybe it was better. No, but it wasn't. She still needed to explain.

"I want to explain this to you."

They stared at each other, and Emily could see the hesitation in Spencer's eyes. She also wanted to listen to what Emily had to say. She was ready. But it was taking so long to make the right thing, to say the right words.

"We don't have to decide now", Emily offered. "Let's do this."

It was what Spencer was needing to hear, so they both left the bathroom and walked downstairs.


	25. Your Hand In Mine

"Can somebody at least tell me why Emily looks like she just went through a barbwire fence?"

Flanked both by Spencer and Aria, who stood like soldiers in guard and vigilance of a secret treasure, Caleb was leaning over his laptop on the table in the Hastings' dining room, a place where he'd never been before, trying to make a phone which he believed had probably been stolen or at least not legally obtained work; but his real intent was finding out why he was even doing this, because he didn't know yet and his not knowing really bothered him. He'd asked a couple of times and all he got as a response were sideways glances from all of the girls and abrupt answers from Spencer, the most articulate one, who insisted they couldn't tell him but needed his help desperately. And, in fact, they all seemed pretty desperate about this, come to think of it. All except Hanna, who was just acting _very_ weird about it.

So he kept glancing at Hanna, both with curiosity and searching for her approval.

He wouldn't do anything if Hanna didn't approve of it, but it had been her who'd called him and told him to come here.

And here he was, with his pocket full of techno-magic.

"Because she did", Hanna answered from her chair across the table, with that annoyed, reluctant tone she always had when she didn't want to talk about something but couldn't resist giving some kind of information. "She loves running in the middle of the night. Right, Em?"

Emily rolled her eyes, a gesture she kept repeating tonight.

Hanna was giving her a hard time.

Spencer was giving her a harder time.

Or maybe it was the other way around. She didn't really know who was being harsher, because this was the first time Hanna even looked directly at her or talked to her ever since they managed to convince her to call Caleb; however, she was sure it'd be easier to crack Hanna back to nicety and sweetness. Or maybe not, because now Hanna was also _really_ pissed at them over calling Caleb and putting him in danger and, since it had been Emily who had gotten the phone, Hanna's hatred of her had probably increased during the last hour. Either way, they were both being kind of mean. But they had their reasons.

Spencer, on the other hand, just kept fixating her stare on the laptop screen, apparently unaware of any part of the conversation that didn't have to do with the phone.

"She just", Aria offered, always the helper, "kind of fell when she went running."

Aria wasn't giving Emily a hard time, at least.

"I guess that's how she found the mystery phone", Caleb added, giving the words an ironic, skeptical turn.

Everybody went silent, not really wanting to explain how Emily's possible running into barbwire was related to the phone they were making him break into.

"So there are photos and videos in there?", Emily asked, trying to redirect the focus to the phone and only to the phone.

Caleb had told them it would take a while to download all of the files and documents that were contained in the phone memory.

"Definitely more than Angry Birds in here", Caleb replied, looking intently at Emily again but somehow mimicking Hanna's reluctant tone. No wonder they were a couple. "At least this time you don't smell like a Jack Daniels distillery."

Somehow Emily managed to stop the eye-roll before it happened. She didn't want to roll her eyes at Caleb. He was a good guy, he always somehow ended up helping them and, besides, it wasn't his fault that the girls hated her now.

But she blushed violently at the remembrance of that drunken night Caleb had witnessed.

"It wasn't whiskey", she mumbled instead as a response.

Spencer looked up from the screen to Emily's face, catching the furious blush that spread throughout her already dark skin.

It was only an instant, but Emily could feel the gaze stronger than gunshot in her heart.

"Rum", Spencer deadpanned, her eyes back on the screen. "It was rum."

Emily nodded, confirming the information, but the blush darkened her skin even more.

They both remembered Ashley Marin's rum a little too well.

"You guys should have marriage counselling", Caleb distractedly added, finding it kind of funny. He could feel the tension between them and he guessed it had to do with another fight. Even though the phone didn't really match that theory, so maybe not. "It's not normal to fight like that, just saying."

He wasn't keen on giving relationship advice, but it was the second time he witnessed these two in the middle of such a conflict, and he liked them both, despite Spencer's often too imposing behavior. Regarding Emily… there was really nothing not to be liked about her. Perhaps that she was a little too shy sometimes; or a little too guarded with strangers.

Hanna totally adored them both, though, and he could see it was reciprocal adoration. That was enough for him.

"And they're not even married yet."

Hanna seemed to get some of her mood back with this collaborative joke with her boyfriend, but the flight was cut short when Spencer directed her intense gaze to her.

"Well, thanks a lot for the relationship tip", Spencer appreciated in full sarcastic fashion, looking at Caleb after shutting Hanna up with her eyes, "but you're getting the wrong idea here, cause we're not fighting. It's something else we're worried about."

Here was Spencer's imposing demeanour that he didn't take so well.

"Whatever it is you're having, you should tell me", Caleb sharply replied, "at least if you want my help with this phone."

Spencer was opening her mouth to respond something sharp and sarcastic when Hanna interrupted the battle to try to keep Caleb from finding out more.

"Spencer's right, Caleb, they're not fighting", she singsonged, her dark mood dripping through the now fake sweetness, "it's just Emily preparing to audition for _The Hunger Games_."

Emily rolled her eyes once more at Hanna's passive-aggressive comment. That was more eye-exercise she'd ever done in a while.

"Will you stop it?"

"No."

Caleb looked at the three of them now. Aria seemed to be the only one keeping her coolness, despite her soldier-like posture.

"Or maybe you all need therapy", he offered now, sensing the increase of tension around.

"We'd better not go there", Aria muttered under her breath.

However, it was too much to ask from Spencer.

"Yeah, let's see if I'm not charged with murdering a therapist next time."

It was a joke but Emily's heart felt like it was going to pour out in chokes and tears up her throat.

She had been the one to go to Dr. Sullivan. But it had been Spencer who had almost been charged with murder and then had had to endure community service as a punishment for something she never did and they never understood. And she had worn orange and picked trash up the streets during the summer and who knew what else, because she'd never talked much about it, and Hanna insisted it was because she was a Hastings and she was too proud, and Spencer just answered when Emily asked that she just counted the seconds for it to end, and Emily remembered now Spencer's bitchy comment about wearing orange while they were arguing in the bathroom upstairs and it had stung so hard, and was stinging so hard still that it made Emily realize she was still feeling guilty about all of it. No matter how much she'd tried to give it a rational meaning, to place the blame on A, who was the real perpetrator of every disgrace they went through, she was still feeling guilty about everything. About Dr. Sullivan and about Spencer's community service. But not so much about this, about tonight. She couldn't feel _that_ guilty about this. She had _fought_ for A's phone - and _won_.

Everyone was mad at her anyway, so maybe she should - but she couldn't.

"Guys", Aria called out, "can we go back to the phone? We really don't have time for this."

Spencer and Caleb stared back at the screen in agreement with Aria, while Hanna crossed her arms defensively in her corner of the room, looking away from Emily's eyes.

Caleb pressed a couple of buttons and mumbled a couple of explanations nobody actually understood.

Then he looked up at Hanna again, disturbed by her defensive silence and distance.

"Hanna, you all right?"

He wasn't really going to help them if Hanna didn't agree with it. And there was something going on with the four of them. That was, by now, clear.

"Yeah", Hanna answered, looking like she was not that all right but complying upon receiving Spencer's and Aria's meaningful glances. Then she moved uncomfortably in her chair. "I'm thirsty. Do you guys want something to drink?"

She wanted to do something that didn't remind her of her boyfriend being offered as a human sacrifice to A.

"Caleb?", she asked directly, looking at him.

But after she'd green-lighted him on the phone for the last time, he seemed totally involved in whatever was going on in the screen.

"I'm fine."

He barely glanced at her to answer and Hanna decided to stand up.

"Well, I'm thirsty, so I'm just gonna ransack Spencer's fridge."

Spencer seemed to react both concerned and annoyed at Hanna's intentions.

"Are you thirsty or hungry?"

"It doesn't matter. I just wanna search your house to keep myself busy."

Hanna was obviously in revenge mode over this whole Caleb thing and was starting to blame Spencer as much as she already blamed Emily, but Spencer felt glued to the table, to the laptop, to the phone and to Caleb, no mater how much she feared Hanna's ransacking impulses in her kitchen. She couldn't leave the place now. Her control-freak personality completely kept her from surrendering the commander-in-chief position to Aria or to Emily. So she watched Hanna leave for the kitchen, knowing it would be her father's expensive wine or her lunches for the week that would be gone if she didn't stop it from happening.

Emily watched Hanna leave too, feeling so iced out that she feared she might start trembling again. She hugged herself with her arms, a gesture destined both to protect herself and to warm up her body.

Standing across the table, apart from all of them, Emily directed her eyes to Spencer. She would've smiled at the way Spencer's lower lip was distinctively coming to life, doing its little nervous dance over and over against her front teeth, chewing in, hiding out every time some new data appeared on the screen, all the way while they waited for the phone to finally work and illuminate their path out of this nightmare… Yes, she would've smiled knowingly, lovingly, even wickedly at its cuteness and its sexiness if it wasn't because she was simultaneously trying to avoid Spencer's ice and to melt it somehow with her gaze. But it was difficult, and the ice wasn't really melting, if anything it was becoming more of an iceberg ready to crash against Emily's sinking ship. She guessed her eyes didn't hold the intense powers of combustion and destruction Spencer's eyes possessed. Well, she already knew that. If she could just go over there where they were, across the table, and take her hand in hers and hold it tightly… That would have worked in another occasion, but it wouldn't work now because they still needed to talk and she still needed to explain everything that had to be said. There was something else beyond the excitement that Spencer felt right now about the phone and it was hurting them, Caleb was right, Caleb had seen it too, Spencer had somehow pointed at it too in her response to Caleb, and she wondered when they could actually sit and talk it over, just the two of them, no one else. God, studying someone was exhausting… It was completely different from just observing them in awe and adoration. And then there was Hanna, who wasn't helping at all. And she was used to Hanna's helping hand and strangely awesome insights when it came to Spencer.

"Em, can you bring me a coke?"

The question startled her, making her jump a little.

Aria had asked the question and, when Emily turned a little to look at her, she saw Aria's big, candid eyes sending all the warmth and understanding Emily somehow needed to find in the room; or maybe just a little bit of them, the little bit Aria could provide from her position next to the laptop. She also detected in Aria's tone the subtle advice to follow Hanna to the kitchen and give peace a chance. Like it would be easy, for the look of it. But Aria was a peacemaker. Despite her independence, she always knew when to take the role upon herself, especially if Emily, who was the other peacemaker in the group, although in a completely different way, didn't seem to be able to execute her smooth-talking, sugar-coating, kind-and-understanding predestined role. Since that was the case right now, Aria decided it was a good idea to send Emily away from Spencer's icy demeanor and to try to restore the goodness with Hanna, figuring that would actually help.

Emily nodded and left.

When she walked into the kitchen she found Hanna storing different packages of food out of the fridge in order to make a sandwich, or so she guessed once she also realized there were slices of bread spread all over the kitchen counter.

Hanna looked up at her once she caught a glimpse of her barbwired appearance.

"Do you want one?", she asked curtly.

Emily approached the fridge and took out the coke for Aria.

"No", she denied, "Aria wants a coke."

There was a silence and Emily realized it was up to her to _talk_ also on this front.

"Okay, Han, shoot it", she demanded, sounding perhaps a little too harsh. "What's wrong? What did I do that's so bad you can't even talk to me?"

"Can't you figure it out by yourself?", Hanna immediately reacted. "Since that's how you do everything now…"

Emily's umpteenth eye-roll automatically followed.

"Will you stop giving me shit with this?", she pleaded now, though. "It's already bad enough, okay?"

"It's not my fault you got in trouble with Spencer, Em", Hanna answered, understanding what Emily had meant. "And anyway you deserve it."

Emily looked hurt by those words.

"I deserve it? Apparently I deserve everyone's shit tonight."

"You do", Hanna agreed, unmoved.

She kept putting too many slices of cheese on a single piece of bread.

"Maybe you should learn from Aria", Emily argued, "because she seems to disagree with you."

"You know Aria, she'll never hold anything against you if you're not feeling okay."

"I'm not feeling okay."

Hanna finally looked up again, but only to glare at her in Hanna Marin's indignant fashion.

"Well, we're not feeling okay either, Emily", Hanna accused, trying to keep her voice down so Caleb wouldn't hear. "Maybe you don't care about your own life but _I_ do, _we_ all do. And I care about _his_ life too, okay? I want him safe as much as I want all of you safe."

Her bluish eyes got watery and red with the mention of Caleb's safety.

"So are you mad at me because we had to call him or because of something else?"

"I'm getting sick and tired of taking care of you when all you do is go out and not tell us."

"I never asked you to take care of me", Emily proudly replied.

"Maybe you didn't", Hanna answered, "but Spencer did. And I live with you, you idiot. I'm supposed to know what you're doing, and she counts on me, and your mom counts on me, and _I_ count on me, but you just leave again like it's nothing."

Emily sighed, feeling tears rush up to her eyes.

"I know it's not nothing, Han."

"She was freaking out after she got that text, Emily. I've never seen her freaking out like that." She paused to look into Emily's now also reddish eyes. "And you know she freaks out a lot."

She was referring to Spencer.

Emily nodded, but didn't say anything.

"But basically you're just worried about your HGH so… whatever. I'm not risking Caleb just because you're going crazy over this."

"You think this is just because of the HGH?"

"What else?"

"What do you mean what else?", Emily raised her voice a little now. "Don't you think I want you out of this as much as I want _me_?"

"And it's Caleb's life worth that?"

"No, of course not", Emily answered, shaking her head. "As soon as we get something we'll go to the police and…"

Hanna glared at her, offended at the mention of the police.

"The police's already on Caleb… and on Spencer, and on all of _us_. Garret _is_ the police, Em, which is the same as saying Jenna's the police, and you know that. Wilden's the police, and they're all dirty and they're probably all A or working for A. It's not gonna be so easy."

She took the three overcheesed sandwiches she'd made and stared at Emily once again, waiting for her response.

"Han, we're gonna figure this out. We need to know who A is."

Or at least the A whose cell phone fell while she was fighting with him or her.

"I guess there should be a we, right?"

This was proving to be almost as hard as discussing things with Spencer.

"There _is_ a we."

Why did she have to keep trying to convince them there was a _we_ for her all the time?

"I don't wanna talk about it now", Hanna shot, moving away with her three sandwiches, but then she turned again, regretting to be so harsh on her best friend. "I know we'll work it out, Emily. We will. But… you know, you just… it's too much with Caleb here and everything else. You really scared us tonight."

Without letting Emily respond, she turned around and left the kitchen, leaving Emily alone.

All by herself.

Since that was how she did everything now.

So basically Spencer had been terrified by her S.O.S message and by A's text, and Hanna had been terrified too, plus she felt responsible for her because they were living together and because Spencer put that pressure on her, and the phone was too low a prize for their fear, and Caleb was also in danger now, even though they were closest to A than they ever had been, and Aria was her only friend even if she'd probably been terrified too, but Aria wouldn't hold it against her because Aria was different, she wasn't so protective as the three of them were, she was more respectful of everyone's needs and particularities. However, she didn't live with Aria. She didn't kiss Aria either, didn't have sex with Aria, didn't observe Aria's lower lip in awe and adoration, didn't dream of Aria every day and every night. So that meant she was screwed.

_With you._

Spencer might be right. She _was_ the problem.

Besides, she didn't have the HGH original report, so there was a high probability A would release it, especially now that he or she might be totally infuriated at her over the loss of his/her phone. It was probably a she. It ran like a she. It was sort of small, like a she. But Emily didn't know for sure.

It wasn't like she was doing all of this only to save her own ass over the HGH, even if Hanna believed so.

Did Spencer believe it too?

Was that also a reason why she was so mad at her?

She sat on the kitchen floor, her back against the huge, grey metal-like refrigerator, and the tears finally flooded out of her eyes like they'd been waiting all this time for her to open the gates. But how she hated to cry like this, hidden behind a kitchen counter, the low voices of her friends sounding in the room next to her, so close and still so far away. Bending her knees, curling them up to touch her forehead, she hugged herself again, making her body little and round like the one of a baby, so maybe she could be scooped up and wrapped in someone's bigger, stronger arms. But that was a stupid idea. She wasn't a baby anymore. Her parents weren't here. She had just run for her life, she had just gotten A's phone out of a single battle that she wanted to win and that she had somehow almost won, and she wouldn't give up so easily, not anymore. It would take more than this to break her. It would take more. And A knew it would take more.

Someone touched her knee and she thought it would be Aria coming to check up on her and get her coke. Aria shouldn't see her crying over this, because she still had to be strong, she couldn't break down yet, so she didn't look up.

Aria grabbed her unharmed hand and squeezed it, long fingers entwining with hers.

Aria's fingers weren't long, though.

She looked up upon realizing it wasn't Aria who was touching her hand, entwining fingers with hers.

Your hand in mine.

My hand in yours.

"Don't cry."

That was all she said, but her eyes had softened up.

"I'm fine. I'm just really tired."

Spencer nodded, understanding.

"I still don't want you to cry."

"What are you doing here?", Emily asked through glazed eyes, but the tears stopped running as she wiped them away with the sleeve. "Phone's in the other room."

It wasn't easy for Spencer to leave her controlling post. As a response, she squeezed Emily's hand tighter and harder.

"I left Aria there."

"That's a really big step for you", Emily tried to joke, although it really was, "I thought you didn't want to look at me anymore tonight."

Had the ice melted just like that?

Spencer sat on the floor too, crossing her legs in the lotto position so she could face Emily.

"You think I'm pissed and that's all?"

Questions that did have answers.

Emily shook her head, denying it.

"I know you were scared. I know that's why you're so upset. Same with Hanna."

"I'm still scared, Em."

"Why? I'm here."

And I'm alive.

Spencer looked away, though, and for a second it seemed her features were hardening again. But then her eyes locked with Emily's, searching to really establish the flow of communication.

"What about my parents?"

Emily guessed she was referring to A's text. They'd been interrupted earlier, when she was starting to tell her about all of it, and Spencer just mentioned it like they could just pick it up from there, like there had been no interruption, like there was no phone and no Caleb and no Hanna and Aria. So she told her about the text and about why she wouldn't let the Hastings find out about this, and Spencer listened with wide eyes that sometimes sent flames and sometimes went cold on her skin.

"You're not dating my parents, Emily", Spencer whispered, interrupting the explanation, "you're dating _me_."

Family was important for Emily. Spencer knew this. She also knew Emily had taken a burden upon her shoulders to please the Hastings, or at least to not really bother them. But she never knew it was _this_ important and went to _this_ extreme.

"I know. But they _are_ your parents, Spencer."

"And I can handle them. They won't talk."

"I don't want you to handle them over this", Emily said, feeling like she was finally able to _talk_ about this, although it wasn't easy to do it. "I'm not a cheat, I've always been clean."

She was a swimmer. She was the captain of the team.

She was not a cheat.

She wouldn't be made into one.

"We will prove it."

"I don't wanna prove it, Spencer", Emily explained, "I'm not gonna give that power to A."

Spencer's eyes widened again at the comment, and her skin paled almost like it had paled earlier, when they were in the bathroom and she had seen the picture of her with the girl.

"You're… What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing", Emily answered, a little taken aback at Spencer's reaction, "just what you're hearing. There's so many things, so many texts, Spencer."

Spencer exhaled the air she'd been holding.

"What else did the texts say?"

"I'm not sure. It's you and me and Alison. There's something there about me, or about you, but there's also the pool, or the team." She paused, thinking about the riddles she'd found in the library. "Or maybe it's all just a stupid game."

"What about you and me and Ali?"

Spencer was looking kind of confused now. It was probably too much information.

"There were all these weird messages in the book over which I kissed Alison."

Spencer swallowed.

Emily had never told Spencer the details of that kiss, so she guessed she had to be cautious about it now. But she'd always been cautious about it. She always had to be cautious whenever she mentioned her romantic past with Alison, ever since that night Spencer said her beauty was heartbreaking and then confessed she believed Emily was going to break her heart just because Alison had broken hers… or something like that. It didn't really make any sense. But it was a delicate subject.

It was a delicate subject that required some kind of explanation now, though.

"You kissed Alison over a book?"

Books were Spencer's thing, so this probably was a surprise to her.

"Ali was reading it in the library when I kissed her", Emily explained, carefully choosing the words to be as precise and gentle as possible. "And it was the book A already used to send me another message when he… or she… whoever it is… outed me."

"What book is it?"

Spencer's mind seemed to be working overdrive over the significance of the book.

" _Great Expectations_."

Red colors started drawing shades and patterns all along Spencer's neck and face again.

Oh, no.

Not _that_ kind of red again.

"Yeah", Spencer said, taking it in. "You never told me about this."

Because it wasn't important.

Or because it was, judging by this reaction.

"It's a stupid book, Spencer."

Spencer nodded, looked down and let go of Emily's hand.

"It's a stupid book A's using to send you messages about you and me and Ali, right?"

She looked right into Emily's eyes again.

Suddenly she looked so vulnerable and exposed.

God knew why Spencer would feel a book could _really_ say something about them.

"It's a stupid book A's using to mess up with us."

Spencer nodded again.

"Is it working?"

"Of course not." Emily both shook her head and frowned at the question. "Don't get mad at me over this, cause it's not even my fault like the other things I did."

Like hiding the texts or asking for that girl's number or chasing A in the woods.

"No, I'm not mad", Spencer said, but she looked down again at her hands, not really knowing what to do or say now. "I mean, I am… but not about this. It's just… So Alison's Stella, right?"

Over a book.

Who knew she could look so ruined over a book.

"Spencer", Emily called, taking Spencer's hand in hers again, " _it's a book_. It was just there."

"Stella's the unattainable love ideal", Spencer analyzed, her voice so very hoarse and husky, "and I'm what? I'm… the hunchback of Notre Dame." She smiled crookedly at her literary invention, but her eyes said she wasn't really taking this very well. Then she blinked, remembering something. "Or Julius Caesar. That's probably more appropriate for us. At least we can say I'm attainable and practical as a romantic interest, huh? Although I'm a dictator who probably needs to be betrayed and assassinated in the third act."

Emily blinked too, trying to follow Spencer's line of literary thoughts. Whenever she thought of the hunchback of Notre Dame the Disney movie came to mind, but she guessed Spencer was referring to Victor Hugo's novel, which she hadn't really read. Anyway, there was nothing in Spencer that resembled a hunchback, cartoon or not. Or Julius Caesar, beyond that night in the summer when she was going to betray Spencer and she got drunk and she thought of Texas and of the movie theater and of the sex they wouldn't be able to have anymore, although they did have it later that night. Damn. They were thinking about that night a lot, tonight.

But A didn't know about Julius Caesar.

A wasn't in Texas.

Right?

Right. There were no allusions to Shakespeare or _Julius Caesar_ or _The Ides Of March_ in any of A's messages. It was just Spencer's mind exhausting itself, Spencer's heart breaking itself with the help of A's texts and of Emily's explanations.

She had to deactivate the literary discussion somehow.

"It's a book", Emily tried again, repeating the same thing as a mantra, "so it makes no sense, Spencer. Besides, everybody knows Shakespeare's better than Dickens."

Or maybe she was getting deeper into the nonsensical discussion.

"But Shakespeare writes about power, right?", Spencer argued, her eyes burning again with all the sudden meanings lighting up her head like flashlights. "So it does make sense."

No, it didn't.

"It doesn't." Emily squeezed Spencer's hand tighter just like Spencer had done before. "Do you really believe a book's actually gonna say something about us? About what we have?"

Spencer stared at her now, thinking.

"A seems to believe it's important."

Emily sighed.

"But it's not important for _us_."

Spencer nodded, somehow agreeing. Thank god. But she seemed still hurt by the book.

"You have to show me the messages. Maybe there's something there."

Emily guessed she had to be happy Detective Hastings was back. She'd rather deal with that than with obsessive, literary Spencer.

"I will", Emily assured, "they're in the library… And the picture's in my car."

"What picture?"

Upon seeing Spencer's skin growing paler at the mention of another picture, Emily realized she hadn't explained this part yet.

"It's a picture of me in my sharks uniform after a swim meet. It's about the team or the pool."

"The HGH."

Emily nodded.

Of course it was about the HGH and about winning and who knew what else.

Looking at their intertwined fingers, her forehead furrowed as she thought of her next words, Spencer raised both their hands to her face before locking eyes with Emily once again in that particularly intense, challenging manner of hers.

"You know? I was serious before when I asked what you're gonna do next, Em."

In the bathroom. Emily knew Spencer had been serious.

"Im just gonna… We're gonna follow the clues we get in the phone."

"Yeah", Spencer replied, like that part was obvious. "Besides that. Caleb's downloading everything but he says the files might be encrypted or whatever. It might take a while. And if you did all of these things to get your report and you didn't get it, I wanna know what you're gonna do next. Cause I can't make you promise something you're not gonna do anymore and…" Even though she was good with words, she struggled to get these out. "It scares me not to know what you're gonna do or what you're thinking."

Apparently, _scared_ and all its derivations were one of the most repeated words tonight.

Both Hanna and Spencer were scared by what Emily had done. But Spencer was also scared by what Emily might do in the future.

Was that it?

"I'm…"

"Something's changed", Spencer interrupted. "When you first learned about the HGH you wouldn't…"

"That was before we were dating."

"Exactly."

They both stared at each other, trying so hard to read each other's mind.

"I'm not gonna give you up", Emily blurted out, but it came out so firmly. "All of this that I'm doing… it's because of us."

She thought Spencer was going to be relieved, but it didn't look like she was.

"If it's so bad…", Spencer struggled again, "it's worse than we thought…"

Now it was Emily's turn to panic.

"You can't seriously be saying you wanna give up on us."

Spencer's eyes widened in shock.

"No", she answered quickly, "no, that's not what I'm saying."

Emily's heart started beating again.

"Then what are you saying?"

Spencer breathed, and this time her eyes filled with tears that she choked back.

"I don't know what I'm really saying", she admitted, "I just wanna know what you truly think about this. Cause I can't ask you to do something I want you to do because you won't do it anyway, right?"

"Spencer, it's not like that."

"But it is", she asserted, "it is like that."

Truth could be seen from so many different perspectives.

"You can always ask me to do something and I'll always try to do it."

And that was also the truth.

"I don't want you to do this again."

"But I won't do it again." Emily paused and thought it over. "Meaning: getting into a trap or chasing A alone, I know that was stupid. Or hurting you. I'll never hurt you."

"This already hurt me, Em."

Emily grunted in frustration.

"But it's not… it's just because you were scared and because I broke our pact."

Spencer knew what that meant. There was no pact anymore. The pact was over.

"There's no pact anymore, Em, let's be honest", she said. "Maybe there was never one."

"So now what? We're just running free, there's nothing between us?"

The sound of those words scared her. There was a pact. Maybe it had never been _that_ pact, the one they thought they had ever since that summer night, but there was another one. Right?

"What do you mean nothing?"

The words had also scared Spencer.

Scary words.

We're in this together, we're not free, we're not alone.

There was a we for her _all the time_ , and she cared for it more than anything else.

"I didn't mean to hurt you", Emily said instead, "I did it for us, but I got scared too."

Spencer fixated her stare on her, almost like she was hammering her into the fridge door.

"You must've been _really_ scared", she said, her voice cracking. The admission seemed to hurt or scare her even more, though. "If something bad happened to you… I just couldn't…"

She trailed off, and Emily held her hand tighter because she _knew_.

"Nothing bad happened."

"I couldn't take it", Spencer finished the sentence, "I wouldn't."

Emily knew. But knowledge was not enough sometimes, so she moved forward in search for contact. Hands were not enough. Hands were good, but sometimes you just needed to use your whole body.

"Come."

She still needed to ask permission, though: for contact.

But Spencer shook her head no, refusing to allow more contact right now. She was probably afraid she was going to break down, they both were going to break down and they were in the kitchen and there was a whole phone operation going on in the Hastings' living room.

"Spencer…"

Emily's voice came out broken because she needed the contact and knew Spencer needed it too. But she wasn't being allowed to have it, so her movement was cut short like a bird shot and dropped down the sky, biting the dust for the second time tonight.

Spencer coughed the lump in her throat away.

"I can't cry now", she explained, her voice broken too. "And I still need to know what you're gonna do, Emily."

"I'll do whatever it takes to be together."

A we.

That was the real pact between them. The one she'd always stick to.

"We're talking in circles", Spencer complained, getting impatient like she always did when Emily wasn't clear enough. "I don't know what that means."

She started to get up, agile legs pushing her body away, plugging the contact away, cutting it off.

"I can't tell you something I don't know yet."

"No, but you can tell me what's on your mind and you don't", Spencer replied, annoyed. "And I know it's hard for you but I need to know. You owe me at least that."

_You owe me more than that_.

Debts and fines.

Not an apology, not only an explanation, but a plan, a line of action the two of them could rely on. That was Spencer.

Spencer needed action, plan, strategy, calculation. A pact.

A pact she could not only rely on but direct and manage and control.

"I…"

Emily had no plan.

What was on her mind?

She believed she'd said everything that was on her mind.

Or maybe not.

Still sitting on the floor, Emily looked up.

Suddenly the words came.

"I'll quit the team before I get kicked out of it."

Suddenly the truth.

She'd been thinking about it ever since she received A's text about the HGH, but her mind kept rejecting the words, the actual words and its consequences.

But those were the words and that was one of the plans, if the other plans didn't work out. If the phone didn't work out.

Spencer seemed speechless after hearing the words and the plan.

And pale.

"You're kidding."

It came out metallic, but choked.

"I'm not saying I'm gonna do it, Spencer. We have A's phone. It's gonna work."

"Just because my parents might find out?", Spencer growled now, pure impatience and despair in her voice again. "Is that it? Seriously?"

She knew Emily might say something she wouldn't like hearing, but not this.

"No, not only your parents", Emily argued. "It's senior year, Spencer. If I'm kicked out of the team I won't… I'll never make it back in time. And I won't take that."

Spencer leaned against the counter, almost as if she needed something else to support her body or she would fall.

"It will kill you." All of a sudden she seemed to fight with too many emotions at once. "You're going crazy."

"No."

She wasn't going crazy. She was just trying to fight. It'd be easier to go back to the team if she quit and nobody knew the reason. Then they could catch A and she could go back. There'd be no HGH. They'd be dying to get her back. She'd keep training and she'd go back and everything would be all right. It'd be at least better than having all the school thinking she'd used Human Growth Hormone to become the person she was.

And they still had the phone Caleb was working on right now.

"You're going out of your mind, Em." Spencer's voice was cracking and rising and losing the tune. "What's going on with you? When did you start thinking like this?"

Emily didn't know, couldn't trace it back to a zero point.

She was just trying to fight.

But Spencer seemed honestly scared.

_Scared_.

They were all scared of her - for her.

But she'd never been the kind of person who scared people away.

She got up too, so Spencer could see her and look her in the eye.

"It doesn't mean I'm gonna do it."

Spencer blinked away more tears. She couldn't cry yet. She couldn't allow herself contact and she couldn't let herself cry.

"I won't let you do it."

It sounded imposing, commanding - desperate too.

"Let her do what?"

Aria had come to the kitchen and was standing behind the counter against which Spencer was supporting her body.

"Nothing", Spencer answered, trying to cover up the truth and hide it away from the rest because it sounded so crazy and unreal. "Something stupid."

Aria nodded, not wanting to get in the middle of their conflict.

"The phone", Spencer said, like that was the only thing that mattered now, probably because it actually was the only thing that mattered now that Emily had actually said those words. "Did you leave it there with Caleb and Hanna?"

Like leaving it with them meant its self-destruction.

"Caleb says someone, meaning A, blocked it."

"What?" Spencer's question sounded like a howl in the night. "Did we lose everything?"

Aria quickly moved her head no.

"We have some files, but they're locked or blocked or something. He's gonna take everything home."

"No", Spencer refused to allow that, "no, it has to be tonight."

Things had to be solved Right Now.

"It can't be tonight, Spencer."

"But…" She seemed lost. So she moved immediately without laying eyes on Emily again. "Let me talk to him."

And she ran out of the kitchen like the kitchen was hell on fire and the phone was heaven safe.

Aria looked at Emily, who was still trying to grasp the meaning of her own words as much as Spencer's reaction to them.

"Em? You all right?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

Emily nodded.

Aria, her only friend.

But she didn't live with her.

But she didn't dream of her every night and every day.

"It'll be fine", Aria tried to assure, although she wasn't sure exactly what she was assuring, "Caleb can do it."

Nodding again in blind faith and naked acceptance, Emily leaned against the counter Spencer had touched some seconds before.

Aria's thin, small fingers subtly touched her hand, a different touch - but it was contact.

She pulled away, moving her hand, knowing she was going to break down if someone touched her, knowing she was going to cry, knowing she just needed to keep moving.

Plans and debts and fines.

Promises that had been broken and pacts.

There was a pact, the only pact that ever mattered to her.

Keep moving and spinning until all of this ends, because it will end.

It won't break you.

It won't break Spencer.

It won't break Hanna.

It won't break Aria.

It will take more to break _us_.

There is _us_.

Aria was not the kind to impose herself on anyone, but she was the kind to stick, so she remained there, her body a reminder of the contact Emily missed but couldn't have right now because she might fall into pieces of glass and she didn't want to, she couldn't. If Spencer couldn't, then she wouldn't either.

"Let's go", Emily said, her voice small but firm.

And they both left the kitchen to meet Caleb, the phone saviour, the redeemer, the man with a plan and a pocket full of techo-sand.

 


	26. Fire

It was 1 a.m when they all walked out to the Hastings' driveway and headed for their cars, ready to go home at last. They were all looking so tired, eyes glazed and blurry due to the lack of sleep on a school night. Spencer, however, had the most tired eyes of all, especially after discussing schemes and plans for tomorrow (one might say today) with Caleb under the anxious vigilance of Hanna. Caleb was taking the phone with him. That basically meant he was taking their hopes and fears with him without him even knowing; obviously it wasn't his fault; it was just the way things were always for them. Always their hopes and fears were in someone else's hands, someone whom they didn't even figure out. Sometimes it was the police or a judge or a missing therapist or a lawyer (Spencer's mom, but those were the bearable hands), most times the psycho-stalker, psycho-killer's hands, evil and unknown to all, invisible for all except for the couple of times Spencer, Hanna or Emily had encountered him or her closely, in Emily's case _too_ closely tonight.

So it was nice to have Caleb's hands on their life for a change.

It was still exhausting and scary. It could be exhausting and scary for him too, if he ever knew what it truly meant for them to have him there, to give him the phone, to hand out every one of their secrets, of their dreams to him.

Emily's dreams.

Spencer felt like she was offering Emily's dreams to Caleb, thus her own dream of living the dream with her.

Hanna felt like she was offering Caleb, who was a dream himself. But the dream could turn out to be a nightmare if he was in danger because of her - because of them.

Aria was just too sleepy to think about it, and her dreams were already risky and hesitant with the on and off situation she lived every day, torn between Ezra Fitz and her parents. Besides, she was worried about Emily and Spencer. She was worried about Hanna too. But she was too sleepy so she'd keep worrying about all of them tomorrow. Now she was just dreaming of a pillow to hug and squeeze under her head.

Too many dreams, in any case.

Too many hopes.

Too many secrets and sacrifices Caleb was unaware of.

Hopefully it'd be over soon.

Emily had no car to head for, so she approached Hanna's knowing that, for once, she'd have to take her crazy driving; she really didn't like Hanna's driving skills. She always felt like they were going to hit a stray dog or a wandering drunk person. But she also knew they'd first have to go to Lucas' to drop Caleb off before going home to Ms. Marin's fast-asleep ignorance, so maybe she'd get what? Possibly about five hours of sleep at most. Spencer hadn't said anything about staying tonight and Emily didn't dare bring it up again, especially not after the look of utter shock Spencer had given her before running away from the kitchen half an hour ago. It wasn't like Spencer to run away from her, from anything. However, Spencer was focused on the phone right now. Not only that, Emily would have to give her time to adjust to it… meaning tonight, meaning everything that had happened, everything that she'd done and said; meaning also the plan that Spencer had said was a proof Emily was losing her mind. But she wasn't. She really wasn't.

She was just trying to find her own way to fight A.

Slamming the door shut, Emily sat on the backseat and rested her head against the window, closing her eyes. The race, feet touching the soil. Ray-shooting arm, a picture of her Caleb would perhaps see once he managed to crack the phone and access the files. Spencer. Spencer's red colors, Spencer's blank, pale face, Spencer's fire and Spencer's ice, combining in her mind with the real sound of her voice scratching the air in the still night, outside the car. She was asking questions to Caleb, trying to conceal the command that was essentially hers, unsuccessfully trying to sound nice and reasonable to Caleb's ears and eyes.

Always the double star, always fire and ice.

Emily opened her eyes again to search for the real image, so she could replace the mixture of emotions with the reality of Spencer's presence here and now. But Spencer had suddenly grown silent. Everybody was silent as Hanna opened the door and plopped on the seat with her usual exhibition of annoyance when she was pissed and tired and worried too. Caleb followed, a more fluid movement as he let his body adjust to the passenger's seat, a smooth guy with bad-boy looks.

Aria got into her car and started the engine before anyone else.

Spencer was standing in front of Hanna's car, her arms crossed and a frown on her forehead.

Thinking, calculating, evaluating.

Searching.

Her eyes cut through the glass of the windshield like an electric scalpel would cut through the skin, directly to the backseat, ignoring everything else in the middle.

Emily's heart jumped, both in joy and freight.

Did that mean they could get to say a word to each other? Should she get out of the car again, exposing herself to Hanna's moodiness, exposing everything to the public eye?

Like in the movies.

Music raging loud inside, turbulence in the air.

Like that day in the park.

But it was daylight, the sun was shining, there were kids running around and playing with a ball, they'd argued about something stupid, not like tonight - nobody had been under fire like it'd happened tonight.

That day in the park Emily had guessed what being in love meant.

What it  _really_  meant.

Her hand was starting to reach for the handle when Spencer walked steadily to the window and knocked, and Emily's fingers rushed instead to press the window down.

Words.

Spencer seemed to be at a loss of them too.

It was Hanna who decided to speak for both of them, while Aria blew the horn as she waved goodbye with one hand, the other one grabbing the wheel.

"Great", Hanna growled, her pissed off tone contradicting the sweet smile she directed to Aria through the window. "Now you need a kiss goodnight, Spencer? Couldn't you do it earlier?"

Spencer shot a dirty look both to Hanna's back and to the rearview mirror. Then she lowered down her eyes to Emily.

"Why don't you stay?", Spencer said, and it was more of an order than of a question, like it usually happened with her. "We should still talk about everything."

Meaning…

Oh, Emily was so tired. But, yes, they did need to talk. And to be together. And to be alone.

The only moment they'd be alone.

"Having sex doesn't exactly count as talking, Spence."

Again, Hanna offered her caustic advice. Even though she'd mentioned Spencer's name, she was looking at Emily in the rearview mirror. Therefore, the dirty look was shot in return by Emily now, while Spencer simply ignored the comment.

"I can drive you before Ms. Marin wakes up", Spencer proposed, always devising a plan, "so you're not grounded during the weekend."

Emily just nodded and reached for the handle again, not even thinking about Hanna's response.

"Just go", Hanna said anyway, finally turning around to talk to Emily. This time she didn't sound annoyed. Then she looked at Spencer in the window. "Drop her off before 6 and my mom won't know."

Spencer nodded too.

Emily found her little voice and thanked Hanna, because Hanna was mad at her but they'd be all right, they'd work it out. Then she got out of the car and followed Spencer, who was already walking towards the front door of her house, her back a symbol both of her leadership and of their inability to reach a verbal understanding. Soon they were back to where they'd been before, the kitchen, as if the brief moment outside hadn't even existed in time.

They were inside, together, alone.

The dance, the circle of wordless gazes and tentative moves began once again.

Emily was actually a little hungry now. She'd barely eaten anything since she had lunch, so she approached the fridge, hoping to buy some time for her and to offer it to Spencer. It was an opportunity to buy time that Spencer used just to go back to scrutinizing Emily's every movement as she took out the cheese Hanna had already eaten a while ago. This seemed to be a pattern and it had to do with cheese. Hanna and Emily lived together. Spencer guessed that explained their common obsession with eating cheese when they were anxious.

"I can fix you something else", Spencer offered, her tone soft, "if you're hungry."

Emily swallowed a piece of cheese.

"I'm fine."

_I'm fine_. She was repeating this all the time, like it'd work magic. But she wasn't fine.

Spencer moved towards one of the cupboards and took a frying pan out. Then she put butter on it and started preparing two sandwiches to grill them in the pan. She did like to take care of things, so Emily sat on a stool and waited until the sandwich was presented to her on a plate. There was some inner satisfaction Spencer found in making a sandwich the proper way and presenting it on a plate. Eating like a savage, directly from the fridge, probably made her uneasy. Thus, Emily ate her sandwich like the good girl she'd always been, next to Spencer, who sat on a stool too and ate her own sandwich because she was really hungry as well and, when they finished, Emily allowed Spencer to grab the plates and place them in the sink.

"Are you thirsty?", Spencer asked, shielded by questions, "will you need painkillers?"

Emily nodded to both, because she was going to get thirsty after the sandwich and because the thigh had been bothering her with tiny squeals for a few minutes, and Spencer opened the fridge again, took out a bottle of water, opened a drawer and took out some pills.

"Let's go."

Okay.

Go.

Let's go have a talk.

Another one.

Emily moved, following Spencer's steps up the stairs to the bedroom, thinking the moment her head rested on a pillow she was going to fall into the deepest, fastest sleep she'd ever had. Or so she hoped. She was a little afraid she'd have nightmares about A, about running and swimming, about Spencer's ice.

"I can take the spare bed", Emily hesitantly offered as she stood in the middle of Spencer's room, an odd feeling of  _déjà vu_  conquering her mind, "if you're still mad."

Spencer closed a drawer and threw a couple of shorts which Emily caught in the air. Then she sat on her ample bed, choosing to ignore Emily's comment about the spare bed.

"I think you can sleep in that top", she said, observing Emily's sweater under which there was the red tank top she'd given her before, "but I can give you another one if you want."

Emily nodded at the first comment, shook her head no at the second one.

They stared at each other, calculating the damages keeping them from getting to the core of the problem.

Spencer had said they still needed to talk about  _everything_.

But what was everything? Everything they'd already talked about? Or just Emily's last words about quitting the team before A released the HGH report?

"Why do you always say you're gonna take the spare bed, Emily?"

There was a clear tinge of impatience dripping through Spencer's voice.

"It's not always…" It wasn't always. She wasn't always like this. She'd gladly share the bed  _every night_  if she could. "It's just in case you don't wanna share the bed with me if you're still mad, that's all."

Spencer cut through her with tired eyes, the scalpel still working fine.

"Every time there's a problem you say you're gonna sleep in another bed."

Apparently, the damage hadn't reached bottom down yet.

"It's not every time."

She just thought Spencer might need the space. Was that so bad? In truth she just wanted to know if Spencer was still so mad or hurt or whatever. But everything she was saying made her angrier, so probably… yes, she was.

"Even if I'm pissed", Spencer said, acknowledging it in some way, although in the kitchen she'd said she was more scared than pissed, and then she'd just looked plain shocked, "it doesn't mean I don't wanna sleep with you… or next to you." She seemed hesitant about the proper expression. "You know, in the same bed. I still wanna do that."

There was information in those words that might help Emily feel her way through the cold, troubled night.

One, Spencer was still mad, scared, shocked…

Two, Spencer wanted to share the bed with her.

Three, it pissed Spencer off that she'd offered her space.

"I'm gonna change", Emily announced, turning around on her way to the bathroom.

She did need to think about how she was going to deal with those three pieces of information.

"And now you also need to change in another room?"

Spencer's tone was a mixture of extreme impatience and bitter mockery.

"I…"

"Is it in case I don't wanna see you naked? You know, because I'm still mad?"

Emily breathed, trying to catch the sense of irony in the words.

But she was too tired already.

Failing at conversation was  _so_ damn exhausting.

Maybe it was  _her_  who needed space from the sarcasm and the constant examination of each other.

"It's hard enough to be here and not know what to do or say to you, okay?", she snapped, suddenly feeling offended and worn out. "You told me I was going crazy and then I thought you wouldn't speak to me until hell froze over."

"Apparently that already happened, cause I  _am_  talking to you like every other time you think I'm never gonna do it again."

Emily started pulling down her pants.

Spencer wanted to see her naked?

Fine.

Spencer wanted to share the bed?

That was fine too.

Spencer wanted to have a fight?

Well, all right!

If they weren't going to comfort each other or say the right things, they might as well have it.

So let's have it.

"Will you stop the bitchiness, Spence? How are we supposed to  _talk_  like this?"

She carelessly threw the pants on the chair next to the study table, but thought it over and approached the chair to fold the pants. Then she put on the shorts, her legs exposed. Catching Spencer's stare on them made her feel warm for an instant, the instant it took to remember Spencer was staring at the bandage over her thigh and not exactly at her body in  _that_  specific way she was already used to receiving from her.

"I'll stop the bitchiness when you stop doing stupid things", Spencer fought back after staring at her legs, which were a good reminder of all those stupid things Emily had done, "and saying you're gonna quit the team."

Hit.

Here we go.

Emily pulled the sweater over her head and threw it on the table. And this time she didn't bother folding it.

"I didn't say that exactly."

"But you're thinking about it!", Spencer shouted, impatience breaking through.

Thank god there was no one here tonight. On second thought, if there  _were_  someone here tonight, Emily wouldn't be sleeping in this room or in that bed. It was unlikely Spencer's mom would allow it to happen another time.

Spencer started taking off her own white pants as a way to calm down.

Then she unbuttoned her blouse.

"I don't even know when you started thinking about this", she mumbled through gritted teeth.

"I started thinking about it when I realized A had a copy of the HGH, Spencer."

"And it didn't occur to you to share that thought with me, right? Just like the other ones."

Emily was starting to feel confused.

Was the problem that she didn't share the thought until tonight? But she hadn't done anything yet!

Or was the problem that she might actually do it?

"It's not something I wanna do!", Emily protested, taking the second route, "just like the other things I didn't wanna do but I'm doing  _for us_."

She stressed the last part, hoping for the message about them being  _together_  as a  _couple_  to make it through the air to Spencer's ears. But apparently it never got there the way she intended it because it didn't erase the scowl on Spencer's face.

Now in her panties and a loose T she'd taken from under the pillow, Spencer went under the sheets.

"I don't want you to do that  _for us_ , Emily", Spencer replied, showing she had indeed received the message, "and you're not gonna do it."

It sounded terminal.

"Fine."

Emily advanced some steps to the common bed and covered herself with the sheets too.

They were now both in bed but nowhere near each other.

Besides, the sheets were scrunchy and cold.

"I mean it", Spencer warned, reaching out for the lamp to turn the light off, "I really mean it, Em."

Terminal.

If Spencer wanted terminal, she'd get terminal.

"Yep."

The light went off and complete darkness took over.

"Stop talking in monosyllables like you just want me to shut up!"

It hadn't taken long for Spencer to snap at Emily's terminal words, and Emily turned to face the dark, grasping Spencer's form next to her.

"You just listen to yourself", Emily fired back, because no one was listening to her tonight and Spencer wasn't listening either. She'd just listened for a moment and then she had fled the kitchen like Emily was too dangerous and derailed to touch or bear the sight of. And she needed Spencer  _here and now_. "It's just you and your orders. You want me to tell you everything but then you don't wanna listen to me."

This was officially a fight.

"Of course I don't wanna listen to you saying you're gonna quit the team when it's not even remotely necessary!"

"Yeah, right." That came out as two monosyllables so Emily decided to go on. "Because only  _you_  get to decide what's necessary in  _our_  world."

Hit.

And this one was bad.

"What do you need to prove, Emily?", Spencer hit back, a fighter who was never afraid to get trapped into the crossfire. "That you have  _rights_  to speak up and do your own thing without getting drunk? So go ahead and fuck your life up, c'mon! But I won't help you do it."

Fire.

Fire everywhere.

The world was on fire now.

More than the comment about getting drunk or about fucking her life up, it was the speak-up challenge. Back in the kitchen, only an hour ago, when they seemed to connect for a moment, Emily had worked so hard to deactivate the obsession about equality only to bring it back right now in this fight.

Fuck.

But she would  _indeed_  speak up now.

"You said you'd go to jail  _for us_  and I had to take it although I never liked it." Suddenly all the words were slipping from her tongue like they were ice cream, easy and cold. "I told you I wanted  _you_  to have a life even if we weren't together for a while and you went all crazy about it saying you wouldn't let A take control of us like that."

That summer night was present tonight so they'd better talk about it clearly.

"Now I say I might quit the team  _for the exact same reason_  and you go all bitchy like you're the only one who can say what to do and what not for  _our_  relationship", she paused to breathe quickly, "like you're the only one who can make sacrifices and is allowed to bring those things up and do whatever needs to be done whenever you think it's right and necessary."

Wow. That was a lot to say, actually.

She breathed, this time deeply.

There was a silence.

Emily could imagine Spencer going livid.

And the light proved it when Spencer turned it on again. She sat up, too worked up to continue lying down, and the covers fell down abruptly on her side.

"How can you say that?", Spencer replied, and every word sounded like a chewing bullet. "It's not the same thing! How can I even answer that when you don't even get it?"

She did look like she didn't even know where to begin with the explanation of  _everything_  that was  _wrong_  in Emily's words.

She would've never gone to jail  _voluntarily_.

She would've never quit her freedom on purpose, letting A get his/her/its way.

"Sorry, Spencer, but I  _am_  dumb. You should get a smarter girlfriend… or a boyfriend."

Fuck.

Fighting was awful and it got the worst out of her.

"I'm not gonna let you put things on me like they're my fault when it's all your own decision!"

Exactly.

"Exactly, it's not your freaking fault", Emily agreed, "and thank you very much for admitting it is  _my_  decision."

Control-freak.

Spencer was a control-freak. And she was domineering. And she thought everything fell under her responsibility.

"You're not fucking quitting the team, Emily!"

And this was the language Spencer talked when she lost control. A language of impositions.

There was no way they could get anything out of this conversation.

No way.

"Yessir!", Emily shouted back, preparing to stab Julius Caesar. "Yes, my lord!"

Stick the knife.

Kill Julius Caesar now.

No, but she wouldn't kill her. She couldn't kill her.

She just needed to get out, to get space out of this room.

Emily flung the covers away and went out of bed in a single move, the kind of which she made when she was angry as hell, which didn't happen that often but was happening a lot tonight, but the abrupt move made her leg hurt and she grimaced in response, walking barefoot to the door so Spencer wouldn't notice her humiliating pain and anger.

She wouldn't kill Spencer but she needed to get out, to breathe out of this room.

It was so  _fucking_  difficult to  _talk_.

"Where do you think you're going now? Are you running back to Hanna's or to the forest?"

Ouch.

Emily turned around.

"Wouldn't you love that?"

"I was the one who asked you to stay!"

"And I was the one who offered to stay so we could talk! And all we do is  _fight_!"

She left.

She shouldn't have left. People were not supposed to leave a room when they were fighting. At least, people who loved each other and fought because they cared about each other and not because of some other thing. But she was suddenly so angry and it was probably because she was feeling so tired and also because it hurt to hear that she was trying to fuck up her life and that she was losing her mind when she was  _not_. So she was being mean to Spencer and Spencer was being mean to her. And it was awful because Spencer had really had a hard time tonight and had been really scared and it was all Emily's fault, and Emily knew how freaked out Spencer got when she was scared, just like Hanna had said to her in the kitchen.

She shouldn't have left.

Running down, she turned around and ate up the steps she'd already left behind - turbulence in the air, a whirlwind inside her head.

When she opened the door Spencer was still sitting up on the bed, in the same exact position and with the most perplexed expression she'd ever worn.

"I'm sorry", Emily said, "I'm sorry I left and I'm sorry I said those things."

Still looking puzzled, Spencer nodded.

"I'm sorry too."

They were both sorry.

Was that good?

"I don't wanna fight", Emily insisted, still standing by the door, "I love you."

From her position, she could see Spencer struggling to choke down the tears.

"I love you too", Spencer replied, voice broken once again, "and I don't wanna fight either or get bitchy with you, it's just…"

She didn't really want her to quit the team, on top of everything else that had already happened. It was too much.

Emily knew it was too much for both of them, right now.

"I know you don't want me to quit the team and I don't wanna do it either, Spencer."

"It'll kill you", Spencer repeated, "and if it kills you it'll kill  _me_  too."

Emily looked down, tears reaching her eyes for the millionth time during the night.

Because she knew… it was too much.

"Come here", Spencer called, "come back to bed. We need to get some sleep, we're too tired to talk now."

Yes, they were too tired to talk now. It'd been a bad idea to even try.

Emily approached the bed and hopped back into the covers.

She took Spencer's hand in hers, tears still stingy and pushy in her eyes.

"Let's not fight."

This time she pushed a little further than the last time, pulling Spencer's arm towards her body for a hug. Spencer didn't resist now. She felt her arms clinging to her back, her warm, fresh breath on her neck.

"I'm gonna kill you if you do this again", Spencer whispered to her neck, and although it sounded kind of muffled it had a distinct meaning. "And I won't let you quit the team, Em, I won't."

Emily held her more tightly.

"It's not gonna happen. I'm okay."

"You're not."

"I'm not."

Emily conceded it and this time it didn't sound like a monosyllable that was meant to shut Spencer up. It was blunt and raw and true, and a few tears escaped from her eyes. Nothing terrible, but it just needed to happen because she wasn't okay, she wasn't fine, she was afraid and tired and beaten up and she was now in Spencer's arms, so she could actually, finally let it go. The immediate response was an even tighter embrace which squeezed the air out of Emily's lungs. If Spencer wasn't careful Emily was going to get a broken rib too, in addition to the cuts and scratches. She was being held so strongly that her tears flooded out in a rush, so she kissed Spencer's temple and she kissed Spencer's brow as a response, wanting to stop the tear-flow.

They were little kisses and pecks, light and soft.

"Kissing's not gonna fix this problem."

Spencer's words came out breathlessly, because she was still trying to choke down her own tears. But she also spoke as though those little kisses were meant to break out and spring and blossom into a make-out session.

Which they weren't.

They were just comfort-kisses, meant to… comfort each other.

So the kisses kept coming and Emily kissed Spencer's cheek too, which was humid because, of course, she was finally crying some Hastings tears, tears she was trying to hold back and hide from everyone's sight, including Emily's, and Emily kissed them while they trailed down her face, tasting the subtly sweet, delicate salt in them, just like Spencer had kissed her that night when she got drunk and puked under a tree, and then Emily kissed Spencer's forehead where her hair started to fall down in waves, once the ponytail had been undone before getting into bed. But she kept away from her lips and the surroundings of her mouth so Spencer wouldn't think she was trying to make out as a way to seek comfort after a horrible day and a nasty fight.

And then Spencer kissed her too.

Neck kisses.

They were brief kisses, nothing else, kisses meant to prove who was right and who was wrong tonight.

Embracing each other on the bed, both of them sitting on their knees, fingers carefully touched Emily's wounded, bandaged hand.

"Does it hurt?"

"No", Emily denied, "but the leg's bothering me a little."

"You should sleep on your back tonight."

They finished comforting each other and Emily swallowed a painkiller and lied down on her back while Spencer turned off the light again.

Both on their backs now, contemplating the slow dancing shadows up in the ceiling, a persistent dance Emily and Spencer had kept in their memory ever since sleepovers at the Hastings' started to become a habit, although, in truth, you could see the ceiling dance in every one's room, except in Aria's because she really liked to sleep in the most complete darkness, the minutes passed. It was so late. They had to go to school in a few hours. School, the Marin's house. Everything seemed so strange in their lives all the time.

Spencer's breathing evened out and reached a regular, easy tranquillity.

Did that mean she was sleeping?

It was funny: Emily had thought the second her head touched the pillow she would pass out. But now she couldn't sleep. Her body was sore and weary all over, but her mind was restless. Was it like this how Spencer felt when she went on those periods of crazy passion about their investigAtion or about final exams? Emily turned a little to look at Spencer's bony, proportioned form under the covers. Spencer was a little far away. Normally, when they got to sleep together, which wasn't often, in fact this was the third time ever since they started dating, they would spoon each other. Well, Spencer would spoon her mostly. Spencer was a big spoon. But maybe she was trying to be careful around her wounds. Or maybe they were still apart, even though they'd hugged and cried and comforted each other. Or maybe Spencer couldn't sleep, although she did seem to be sleeping. Or maybe it was because  _she_  wasn't sleeping and had unconsciously moved away.

Had she moved away?

God.

She  _was_  going crazy after all.

Wasn't there a way to turn off the brain and shut it down? Besides alcohol and drugs?

She knew it was going to be difficult tomorrow again and she needed some rest. Because of the phone they'd have to work extra hours with Caleb, keep Hanna under control, they'd have to do homework and she still had to train in the pool. What was she going to say about her wounds? She'd have to come up with a good excuse, because people would ask. People always asked, always made assumptions, always gossiped around.

HGH.

Maybe Spencer would never understand but she  _had_  said she was  _ready_  to go to  _jail_. Emily was drunk that night but she heard the words, she heard the voice talking to her in this room, in this very same bed. Of course Emily knew it wasn't the same thing. It wasn't about sacrificing herself just for the sake of it. No, it was about keeping them safe and sacred, about offering the best she could offer. It was about that. But she hadn't offered the best tonight: she regretted saying what she'd said, because she'd said a lot of stupid things during the fight, things that were probably hurting Spencer. Spencer was obsessed with  _Julius Caesar_  after the kitchen conversation about Alison and then Emily had accused her of always getting her way, which anyway was the truth, because she always got her way, but she never did it in a dictatorial manner. Then again, Emily had also said the equality thing and that didn't play in her favor either. She just meant they needed to make decisions on the same terms. But the HGH decision… it wasn't even a decision she had already made; it was just a last option, last kind of resort. What she'd wanted to say was that the HGH was  _her_  problem, although it did affect them both. She knew it would affect Spencer too. But that was why they needed to discuss it rationally, instead of during a fight. And still, she knew it'd be so much easier for A to control the consequences of the HGH, precisely because the HGH had actually  _run_  through Emily's veins, while Spencer had never done a thing against Dr. Sullivan. It wasn't like Veronica Hastings would be able to save her from this even if she  _wanted_  to… which was doubtful. Her dad wouldn't save her from this either, because the HGH… it was beyond the tricks of law and the hardships and honors of war. Nobody would ever doubt an actual blood test that had been taken in an actual hospital by actual doctors to a person who _actually_  had the substance in her body. A had put HGH in her, yes; yet nobody knew about A. As far as she knew, if the HGH came out, she would  _be_  the HGH-person forever. It would define her, and her defence would sound as crazy and false as if she said the Yeti or Michael Jackson's ghost had poisoned her. She'd have to say goodbye to everything she ever cared about… maybe even literally, if she was actually dragged out of Rosewood by her parents. Fuck - fuck A and fuck the HGH. Fuck the hospitals, fuck Wren, fuck everything and everybody. She was so screwed, if it wasn't for the phone and Caleb.

She turned, uncomfortable with her leg.

A was trying to send messages about choosing between things that were important to her. Spencer, Alison. But Alison was dead. The pool, winning. The heart and the head. Spencer and swimming. Damn. That was it, wasn't it? God, she was going to go crazy if she kept thinking about it and living in constant fear of every meaning. She wanted so badly to shut her brain down and disappear under a hole… not literally, though; that was why she chased A tonight, because she didn't want to end up in a hole. But that was what Spencer didn't understand about this. That was the power she couldn't give to A. And what if A tried to use Spencer? It was easy for Spencer to say they'd prove the truth, but what if A sent the copies to Spencer and tried to make her do something in return? How far would Spencer go to keep her in the team, to keep her in Rosewood? She knew Spencer. Spencer had no limits. Spencer broke all the rules when it came to protection: she had no boundaries, no sense of care or safety or self, and Emily had to keep her under control, which was basically ironic right now because nothing was working, nothing was under control tonight anymore. There was no control. There was no pact.

But she wasn't losing her mind.

Was Spencer actually scared of her? And Hanna too?

Did Spencer really think she could go crazy and start fucking her life up?

Both of their lives?

She looked at Spencer's crooked profile - nose, pout and chin drawing a blurry line against the background wall.

Was she sleeping already?

Why was she so far away in bed?

Her breathing was regular but not deep. Maybe she was thinking too.

"Spence?"

She asked in a whisper, in case Spencer was actually asleep, and Spencer stirred a little at the sound.

"Yeah?"

Her voice came out sleepy. Maybe she  _was_  sleeping, after all.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

Spencer stirred some more, turning to face her.

"Are you all right? Is the leg hurting?"

No, she wasn't all right. But it wasn't about the leg.

"I can't sleep", Emily explained, "cause I can't shut my brain down. And I think it's also because I don't want you to be scared of me."

Spencer sighed and rolled over to her side.

"I'm not scared of  _you_ , Em. Just of what's gonna happen, what you're gonna do."

Yes.

That was it.

But what was the difference now? Wasn't a person defined by her actions?

She couldn't think so clearly.

She rolled over too so she'd face Spencer directly, making sure her hand wasn't caught.

"Don't be scared of me", she begged, "please, just don't be scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you."

"Good, cause I can't sleep if you're scared of me or if you're feeling bad, especially if you're  _next_  to me."

She could literally  _feel_  Spencer's smile.

"So that means you could sleep in another room?"

Space.

No, she didn't want more space tonight.

"Hmmmm, trick question."

Spencer chuckled a little, and Emily chuckled in response, delighted with the sound because it felt like ages since they both smiled at something.

"Or I could go sleep in the spare bed", Spencer offered, but her tone was humorous, if still a little sarcastic, "maybe that'd do it for you."

"You'd still be too close for me to sleep."

"Then you'll have to stick around. I can't move to another city right now."

"I'll stick."

"But you need to sleep."

"You too."

"I  _was_  sleeping."

"I'm sorry I woke you up."

Spencer grew silent, considering her next words. But Emily could feel she was somehow amused.

"Actually", Spencer finally said, "you didn't wake me up. I  _was_  feeling bad."

Emily knew her breathing wasn't deep enough to be sleeping.

"But you're not scared?"

"That's a trick question too."

Emily smiled, because Spencer gave it the characteristic funny, ironic turn.

"See? I can't sleep. It's a circle."

"I'll buy plane tickets tomorrow and leave town."

"Where are you gonna go?"

"Where's far enough so you can shut your brain down and sleep?"

"Trick question."

Spencer chuckled again at Emily's response, this time more vividly.

"They're always the best, you know", Spencer said in wonder, "trick questions."

"The ones you like."

"In exams, yes. They're a challenge."

"But you always get them right."

"Yeah, I do." Spencer was definitely amused now. "What about you?"

"I don't like exams."

But she liked people who liked exams. Well, not people. Just one person. Anyway, she was running out of amusing responses.

"That's bad", Spencer said, "cause they're a lot of fun."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They were close and it seemed safe.

Emily kissed her. On the lips. It wasn't deep, it was just a brief, sweet kiss destined to… comfort and amuse each other. Probably.

Spencer didn't seem surprised, though, for all of her previous resistance.

Resistance.

"Kissing's not gonna fix this."

Yes.

"I know."

Emily wasn't trying to fix anything with a kiss, although Spencer was always a big fan of kissing. Not like this, though. Apparently.

This problem was too serious to be fixed with a kiss.

It was just a comfort kiss.

It was just an amusing kiss.

It was just a kiss that would help them sleep next to each other.

They remained in the same position for a while, breathing each other without moving.

"You never wear that dress for me", Spencer finally said, lifting her eyes to Emily's.

What a radical change of topic.

It probably had to do with the kiss.

"I can if you want", Emily ventured, "I mean, not that one, that one's useless now."

"No, it's okay", Spencer took it back, "I guess we never go to clubs or stuff like that."

"We could, though." Did she want to go to clubs? Did she want to do stuff that involved dresses? "If you want."

"Did you have fun?"

Red flag.

Alert sign.

"Spence, it wasn't me. I was pretending to be someone else."

"Well, it did look a lot like you."

"That's because it was  _me_  pretending to be someone else."

"Someone without a girlfriend."

"Someone older  _and_  single, yes", Emily accepted, "but I kept thinking about you all the time, cause I do have a girlfriend. It was all fake."

"Yeah."

"This is the real me here."

Spencer hummed, agreeing but not completely.

"I'll wear the dress or whatever you want me to wear", Emily tried again, although that might be a dangerous idea to put on Spencer's head, "except one of Aria's dresses." Maybe joking would do it again? Or maybe seriousness would. "I  _was_  thinking about you."

Spencer moved her head away a little, as if she were weighing up Emily's words.

"No, don't get me wrong, that's nice to hear", Spencer said, and at least her tone was humorous again, although there was a hidden warning too, "but you should know I won't take your going around asking for people's numbers even if you keep thinking about me while you're doing it. It's not like being covered in blood's gonna save you the next time."

"There won't be a next time."

"I don't trust you on your word anymore."

Ouch.

"Come on."

"I like you in your jeans anyway."

Spencer didn't seem to want to go back to the nasty comment. She was stuck on clothes and people's numbers.

"I know you like me in miniskirts too."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Everything.

"Nothing."

Everything.

Emily kissed her again to prove what that was supposed to mean. Their noses abruptly crashed when Emily's lips were searching for Spencer's mouth, and the next thing she knew, Spencer's tongue was inside her mouth, invading it with the full determination to lead the kiss.

Oh, she knew.

They both knew.

Resistance was so fake, so futile for both of them.

So they fought with their tongues and they fought in the kiss like they had been fighting with words… only this time it felt definitely better.

It was different too.

This was no comfort kiss. And it wasn't amusing either.

It was different because it was hard and rough. The tongue invasion and conquer was not common between them, especially at the beginning of a kiss, because they usually reserved the hard-tongue kissing for the last stages of making out or sex, and it wasn't even like this. Not since Emily had stated the norms for good kissing during that night… the night she kissed Spencer. The norms for good kissing implied there shouldn't be a full tongue invasion. They weren't even norms, anyway. Spencer had tried to follow them, though. But Emily knew nothing about good kissing then, and now she knew everything, everything there was to know. Everything she knew about tongues.

Full-tongue kissing was leaving her breathless.

She sucked on Spencer's thin upper lip, demonstrating she could still run the show, but no, it didn't work to slow the kiss down, and full-blown force was applied by Spencer's tongue against her own.

She tried another strategy, moving away a little, which actually helped to recover her breath.

Spencer stared, blurry, shiny eyes in the dark.

No.

Yes.

The kiss exploded again like a thousand fires, resistance giving in. Tongues, tongues running like horses in the sky.

Suddenly the pain.

Emily cried out, a mixture of a soundless gasp and a primitive call.

"What the...!"

She tasted the rust of blood.

Spencer had bitten her lip hard.

"Sorry", Spencer apologized after tasting the blood, "sorry, sorry. This is so not what you need tonight."

She started to move away in what seemed to be a movement to get out of their bed, so Emily grabbed her wrist with the same force both of them were applying in making out.

"Where are you going?"

"To get you some tissue."

"No."

She pulled her back and kissed her again, using the advantage to take Spencer by surprise and basically swallow her in her mouth.

It was Spencer's turn to gasp.

But the kiss soon slowed down as Spencer retreated from the invasion and ran her lips softly along Emily's lips, licking the rests of blood with the tip of her tongue. It was just a small bite, but Spencer was careful now.

"Does this mean you're not gonna angry-kiss me anymore?"

Emily asked the question when they both stopped to breathe, and Spencer used her thumb to trace the damage: the lip seemed to be fine.

"Sex is not gonna fix this."

Sex?

Who was talking about sex?

They were going to have sex?

Okay.

Yes, they were.

Although Spencer's words had been a clear invitation to continue with the angry-war make-out session and to stop it at the same time, because it wasn't going to fix this, whatever it was (and they knew what it was, but it wasn't so clear right now), Spencer didn't oppose any resistance when Emily restarted the kiss, energized by the idea of actually having some kind of permission to have sex.

Even if it was angry sex.

However, slow kissing took over, the kind they were already used to having, and it was nowhere near angry, bloody or rough. Getting rid of the red top and of the bra Emily had forgotten to take off before getting into bed, Spencer's fingers began with their exploration, continuously chasing after Emily's bruises, mapping out the territory she'd already searched some hours ago when she cleaned and dressed her wounds in the bathroom.

Efficiency in care, efficiency in sex.

"Do they hurt?"

How many times was she going to ask?

Emily answered lifting herself up to catch her lips, but Spencer pulled away and moved, repositioning her body in a way she wouldn't touch the damaged thigh.

She seemed deep in thought about the body in sight.

"We have to be really careful and keep this simple", Spencer concluded, "plus we're tired so it should be quick."

Doctor Spencer.

In a second she had diagnosed the sex they should have tonight: careful, simple and quick, all of this after angry-kissing until she'd made her lip bleed.

"Are you setting new rules for sex?", Emily joked, mockery in her tone.

Emily couldn't see Spencer's eyes very well but she was pretty sure Spencer was killing her with them right now.

"Since you look like The Mummy, yes, these are new rules. Unless you don't wanna have sex at all."

God, no.

She propped herself up on her good hand and embraced Spencer.

"I want to."

Now it was Spencer's turn to sound mocking. "You do?"

"Yeah."

"I had a feeling you did."

She was going to kill her like this.

Fire, warmth, fire.

Angry kiss, nursing sex.

Slow, fast, smooth, hard.

Fast.

After the diagnosis had been established, fingers began to trace another curious, controlled examination of her body, making Emily respond in internal shivers. Then the turn of the mouth came. Spencer sucked on Emily's neck and down her clavicule, slowly drawing circles and lines until she reached her breasts, where her tongue warmed up her nipples after the first touch had hardened them, making them react in tight, fiery pride. The sweet, delicate tease of Spencer's tongue dominated them, convinced them of the uselessness of their reaction until they were smooth again, fingers playing to both help and hinder the work of her mouth. Oh, this was so much like Spencer it gave Emily a light head. It made her back arch like Spencer was playing a harp on her body. It made her body clench and soften and melt as her own fingers ran through Spencer's messy waves of hair. Spencer used to be so much more aggressive with her breasts, fingers and mouth squeezing and sucking fiercely but tentatively on them, fighting to cover the flesh and to posses it, and Emily wanted her to do that again, to use her teeth on her again like that, but her body was also heating up to this controlled, peaceful touch, to this careful, playful warmth. With a white flag between her teeth, Spencer was running her lips all along her damaged skin, brushing and licking around Emily's bruises and cuts, making sure it was all right, it was smooth, it was alive; making sure she'd do no harm.

It was alive.

Emily could feel it between her legs and she was starting to go a little crazy about it.

Now, if only she could also undress Spencer.

Lifting Spencer's head up with both of her hands, she did what she had to do and left her naked.

They kissed again.

Slow.

Tongues were playing another game tonight, though. They were sort of trying to chase each other and catch and squeeze and run, like hide and seek and touch and steal, cops and robbers, drop the handkerchief, old games getting radically new, their lips sore and swollen with the excessive friction and the salivating war taking place in too many spots at once, reaching too deep in each other's throats before running far away and fast.

Fast.

Like only one of them would win.

Tongues like horses, soldiers riding horses in an open field in the sky.

Emily could feel the warmth building up in Spencer's panties as Spencer firmly grinded against her good thigh, rubbing the soft cotton against it while their tongues played their newly founded game of ruthless persecution, the game of Angry Kiss and Nursing Sex, so Emily lifted her thigh a little, wickedly increasing the pressure, evilly raising the stakes, gaining the trophy she was after when Spencer gasped at the harder, suddenly rawer touch. Yes, Emily was feeling it through the freaking cotton fabric, throbbing, pulsating against her bare skin like a fever cord that was hardly disguised behind a transparent veil. And who was playing the harp now, and on whose body, she didn't know, but it felt so good and so right.

And it was going to be quick.

And it was going to be simple.

But so seriously hot.

She moved a little to search for her own contact, dying to feel the touch on her shorts because Spencer was trying so hard to be medical that, sexually speaking, she was keeping her in agony right now. Both trying to attract Spencer's knee and to rub against it, a flinching pain surged through her body and mixed with every other aching sensation. It was her bad thigh.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing… my leg."

No, no, no.

The words sent Spencer away, so Emily quickly held her by the waist, pulling her body down and forcing her to stay.

No. 

Yes.

They kissed as hard and heavy as they could without biting each other.

However, her leg was starting to  _really_  protest, so Emily did what she usually did best. Using her arm to envelop Spencer and to push her up, she somehow managed to flip her over down on the bed.

Killer moves, always so easy even now that she was a crippled soldier.

"What are you doing?"

Spencer had landed sort of face down and seemed pissed with the abrupt change.

"It's just easier this way."

"You mean easier for you", Spencer protested, and this might mean it was going to be angry sex after all. "Why do you have to fight me even in bed?"

Ouch.

"I'm not fighting you", Emily explained, "it's just better for my leg, but we can go back to…"

She was cut off by Spencer's fast pull on her arm, which sent her down too.

Fallen Soldier On Her Face.

"How do you like that?"

Vengeance.

"Can we  _not_  fight?", Emily requested after landing between the pillow and Spencer's cascade of hair. "We're having sex, we're not fighting."

Spencer brushed the hair away from her face and then her caring fingers did the same thing with Emily's dark curtain of hair, using extreme caution not to touch the cut on her forehead.

"You're fighting  _me_."

Sure.

"Yeah, like I was the one who almost had a complete breakfast on your lip."

Spencer had to suck that one up.

"That was before we established the rules. The ones you're breaking now."

Uh, oh.

"I'm not breaking them, I'm following them so I don't hurt my leg", Emily argued her point. "Careful, simple and quick."

Nursing Sex.

"You really like breaking the rules, don't you?"

No!

"Are we really getting into that?"

Spencer seemed to debate over this. But a verbal discussion wouldn't only kill the sex, it would lead to another fight they'd agreed on avoiding tonight.

And now the sex was on.

"Just do it already", Spencer finally said, because she was crazy dying to go on anyway, "but be careful with your leg."

"Do what?"

Spencer widened her eyes in mocking shock.

"Whatever you're doing, Emily."

Okay.

Green light.

However, Emily wasn't sure she was doing anything besides changing the position and easing the pressure on her damaged leg. But it was fine, because a crippled soldier could stand up and keep fighting, especially now that she was freer with her own movements, especially now that she had Spencer's long body under hers. Under hers: Spencer was lying on her stomach, so under her she had Spencer's tensed back, the amazing, sudden curve on her waist giving way to her ass, still covered by the white cotton material of the underwear. She had a nice ass. She had a nice everything. She was so bony and sort of linear and then she had all these unexpected curves that gave Emily a feeling of lustful, wicked surprise. And Emily wasn't so used to seeing her in this position. Damn. Maybe she did like to break the rules. No, but she didn't. She did like… sex. And she liked her killer moves, because she never knew she had them before she had sex with Spencer. Obviously. She had never had sex before Spencer. But more than her killer moves she liked the effect her killer moves had on Spencer. Maybe that was all she liked. But she wasn't a rule-breaker. And she wasn't fighting Spencer, at least not more than Spencer was fighting her. Her bitten lip was still a proof of that, stingy and swollen with every kiss that roughed their mouths and their tongues up to exhaustion.

She felt Spencer's heat under her.

Fuck.

Yeah, that.

Blushing incredibly as she embraced Spencer's body with her own, she began to angry-kiss her to show her  _who_  had started  _that_  war. Spencer kissed back fiercely, almost as if she was expecting exactly it, tongues crashing like furious doors opening and then slamming shut against each other, until Emily decided to do whatever she was going to do. Ass and back. Pressing her hips against Spencer's ass, Spencer's body against the mattress, she hoped to elicit a loud, clear response, and she got it in the form of a broken, labored moan.

Well, well, well.

Look at that.

She knew the sound by heart and body by now so she repeated the move, this time holding Spencer's hips tightly as her own hips thrust harder against Spencer's ass, pushing her against the silky sheets and the solid mattress.

Another set of groans followed, Spencer's raging music combining with her own.

"Yeah."

If this was Angry-Nursing Sex, it was feeling really good.

"Yeah?"

Spencer sounded surprised when she spoke, mainly because it wasn't often that Emily said  _anything_  of the sort during sex.

"Yeah", Emily confirmed, "you like it."

Green lights, open doors.

She didn't give Spencer time to argue as she attacked the smoothly toned skin of her back, grazing the tendons with her teeth after pressing them with her tongue while her body kept rocking hard against Spencer's skinny body, trapped against the mattress and Emily's feverish touch. The hard rhythm provided also contact for Emily and increased her arousal by the second so, once again, she decided to do whatever she was going to evilly, wickedly do. Green light. Open door. Sneaking her good hand down Spencer's sweaty stomach, holding her down, she felt Spencer pushing up, arching up to allow the contact for Emily's fingers to reach her panties, where things would irremediably turn hotter, harder, faster.

Fast.

Emily squeezed the wet cotton, her fingers feeling the shiver underneath, her body sensing the impending tremor.

Spencer panted and grunted, sex sounds muffled against the sheets.

"Shit."

The choked curse meant Spencer was close.

Yes.

Angry Sex: you are doing your job well.

Spencer twisted, gasping for air, obviously starting to lose it and trying to struggle against it, but then her hand travelled down her own stomach in time to grab Emily's hand and pull it out, closing the door, flashing a red light.

"No."

What?

But it had been a definite, loud yes! Emily was so sure she almost pouted.

Was this some kind of punishment for supposedly breaking the rules?

"Why?", Emily asked in confusion, "is it…"

"Just… don't use your hand."

It was a clear, loud order, and Emily felt blocked for a long, long moment when all her killer confidence seemed to fall down like the walls of an ancient city under siege and attack. An abyss opened before her and she didn't know where to put her foot. Or her hand.

"It's okay", Spencer assured, throaty and breathless and sweaty and pink, and everything about her screamed sex and orgasm and all of what was going to happen a second ago, "Em, it's okay."

It was?

Emily started to recover a sense of confidence.

"What do you want me to do?"

"You think you can be quick?"

Fast.

But everything  _was_  going fast and Emily didn't completely understand.

The question had sounded like a challenge, however, and maybe this was the way Spencer had of fighting the war besides the angry-kissing and the lip-biting. A conqueror, a warrior, she would never give up. So she turned backwards to reach Emily's soaking shorts with her hands, fingers tasting the hidden wetness to show Emily what she meant by  _quick_ , to  _feel_  how close Emily was, to demonstrate there was a game to play also for her, that she could also get it right. Her fingers got it right.

A shock of electricity shook Emily's legs and curled up her toes.

Fuck.

Yes, she was  _so_  close too.

But she stopped Spencer's hand before it sneaked inside the shorts.

"Hey", Emily protested, "if my hand's not allowed, yours isn't either."

A twitch was starting to break Spencer's lips into a smile.

"I just wanna know. You're not always that quick."

Really?

That was highly offensive. Or not. Emily wasn't so sure right now.

"I…"

Spencer just stared at her, waiting for an answer and trying to conceal the smile that was still forming.

"It's just a question, Em. It's not a final exam."

Ha.

Trick question.

Emily was trying to get out of her block and find her voice.

"Yes."

Of course she could be quick.

"Yes you can reach an orgasm quickly? Or yes it's a final exam?"

"You trying to be funny now?", Emily asked, recovering her voice thanks to the annoyance she felt. "In the middle of everything?"

"I'm basically trying to find out what you mean by yes."

"Cause it's you who's  _very_  quickly reaching an orgasm", Emily retaliated, "although you didn't want to be in this position."

Spencer gave her what could be considered a cross-eyed look, resentful but so fucking sexy.

"I'm always quick. There's no real merit there."

Ouch, ouch, ouch.

Ouch.

And again: ouch.

Emily was starting to highly dislike Angry Sex.

"So that's a yes?"

"Yes."

The sexiest, most crooked smile in the world finally broke into Spencer's lips as she moved her hand up and pulled Emily down for another kiss. She was getting her way, whatever it was. She always got her way. She always won. Oh, god, yes, she always, always won, and Emily couldn't really hide she actually loved that in a way that… well, it wasn't only that she loved it, she also wanted to have sex with it because it was so fucking sexy. But she would hide it now, because angry sex was a competition and they were both playing it. She was also a winner, she was also a killer and, most importantly, Spencer was her territory and she knew it pretty well. Angry sex was a competition and she was going to get so damn good at it.

Angry sex was an angry kiss.

And so they kissed like they were going to die in a minute and that was the last thing they would do, like the kiss would save the world or completely smash it into pieces after burning it down and blowing it up in smoke. They kissed like their tongues were fighting Third World War and Spencer was Mars and Venus and missiles and H-bombs and special super-speedy planes were forbidden along with Emily's hand. They kissed like they only had mouths but the rest of their bodies were also fighting the war in the rearguard, no blood and no bites though, and they kissed so hard and so heavy that Emily couldn't even feel her pulsating throbs as she rode Spencer's leg now, not on top anymore but sort of lying on the side, so hard and so heavy that she couldn't even sense Spencer's pants and rocks against her too or Spencer's hand firmly grabbing, pushing her ass now, back in the offensive, burning down the field, and Emily thought she was really going to get off just because they were kissing like that, because that was what Spencer wanted, because she wanted what Spencer wanted and whatever Spencer wanted would always be fine.

A kiss like that, a kiss of war.

It was burning so fast.

She didn't even know a kiss could make you feel sex like this.

Seeking her own kind of vengeance, because Spencer was  _her_  merit, Emily savagely sucked on Spencer's tongue, kill or die, die and kill. Gaining a retreat, sinking deep into her throat, breaking every kissing norm she ever stated back in the day, she soundly moaned inside Spencer's mouth because she  _was_  dying, running out of air, no light, no oxygen left, and they both grunted loudly, erratically moving all along their bloodied sky, last knife stuck, last bullet shot.

They were dying, soldiers under fire.

Fire.

Fire everywhere.

The world was on fire now.

It was all too much, it was all too fast and they both came almost at the same time, their bodies trembling against each other in violent shocks that slowly gave in into tiny electrical shivers which finally disappeared into complete, utter physical exhaustion.

They searched for a new position once it was over, fitting one body into the other in a soft, tired embrace.

"Holy fucking crap."

Spencer's typical exclamation of awe sounded in the now silent room and Emily smiled at her, feeling unable to utter another sound in her whole life.

"Did you actually come first?", Spencer asked, her throaty, grave voice hardly hiding her excitement to know the answer.

"I'm not sure."

Well, Emily still had a voice, even if it sounded really tiny and weak now.

"I think you did. That's good for a change."

Emily shot a daring look. "I can be quick."

Spencer offered a wide grin.

"I didn't know you were so easy to piss off during sex."

"Easy, the magic word", Emily contributed, knowing why Spencer was feeling so excited about the whole thing. "Why didn't you want my hand?"

Spencer seemed suddenly pensive, like she would prefer to keep it a secret.

"Why do you wanna know?"

"Seriously? Why do I wanna know?"

Because she was afraid her hand would never be a killer hand again? Because her hand had been suddenly, surprisingly rejected like it was a bad, evil hand, right after being allowed and almost driven to the point of no return?

Spencer grinned again, clearly amused with Emily's reaction.

The things sex did to people's moods.

"I wanted us to come together", Spencer explained, looking down to expose herself a little less on the matter of why she'd rejected The Hand, "and if you used your hand we both know what was gonna happen. But I like it when we come together… you know, at the same time. And when we're looking at each other." She paused, suddenly serious. "And I needed it."

Thankful there wasn't a problem with her hand, Emily considered Spencer's last words. They were probably going to come together anyway, hand or no hand. But Spencer _needed_  to check, because she didn't know that. And they weren't looking at each other, basically because Emily was looking at her back... and at her still covered ass.

There was something else too.

Spencer needed that kind of connection tonight.

So it wasn't only about Angry Sex. Or it was… but it wasn't only about being angry.

Emily smiled sweetly, because she also needed the connection. She was suddenly glad her hand had been prohibited from sex.

"I like it too."

"We're still in our underwear."

"I know. It's pretty crazy, right?"

Spencer nodded, resting her head on Emily's shoulder. But then she sneaked her arm under Emily's back, embracing her body from beneath and pulling her closer so they could still lie breath to breath while they regained the tranquillity to finally fall asleep. It was so late and tomorrow was going to be such a hard day… or today.

They both closed their eyes.

Emily's body was aching more than before, her leg protesting in intense, intermittent cries now. Her change of position hadn't really been a great idea after all. But she was finally dozing off, her brain sort of fading out into an easier blackness.

However, Spencer stirred a little and kissed Emily's shoulder, showing she was still awake, and Emily opened her eyes.

She reciprocated the kiss, her lips brushing Spencer's chin.

"You can't sleep now?"

Spencer hummed in response, her eyes still closed. She wasn't being very expressive.

What was she thinking?

Was she still feeling bad?

"I like sex", Spencer finally said, her tone both lazy and reflective.

Okay.

That was good news.

"Big news", Emily joked. "Me too."

Spencer's eyes opened, heavy-lidded but bright, and she smiled crookedly.

"I think I got the idea."

"You did?"

" _Easy_."

Emily giggled. Was Spencer still thinking about that? It'd been an interesting experience. Angry Kiss. Hard-Bitten-Lip, which she'd found strangely arousing and new. Nursing Sex. Broken Rules. Forbidden Hand, which had shocked her at first. Tongue-Murdering Wars.

The Connection.

_Shit_.

_Fuck_.

_Holy fucking crap_.

"You think I should be more talkative in bed?"

Emily blurted out the question, thinking maybe there were things she could improve.

"I… don't know. Do you wanna be?"

"I don't know."

Maybe.

"I think you're fine."

Some seconds passed until Emily's question  _really_  triggered Spencer's curiosity.

"Unless you wanna  _say_  something." Spencer paused to make her words sound both dramatic and funny. "Like that moment you had of intense poetry:  _yeah_."

She mimicked a monotone, robotic voice.

"I'm pretty sure I don't sound like that."

"You do."

"Shut up."

Spencer laughed, eliciting the same response in Emily. It'd been hours, maybe even days since they'd laughed that kind of open, natural laugh and hearing it again made them happy.

"Okay, so you don't sound like that", Spencer admitted, still a huge grin on her face. But then she went back to her mocking enquiry. She was dying to know now. "So is there anything you wanna say? Something you're too shy to tell me?"

Emily gave it some thought. A lot of things came to her mind when she was having sex: she just didn't say most of them, but that probably happened to Spencer too, right?

"What if it kills the mood? Or if you don't like it."

"That's not gonna happen."

The certainty in Spencer's voice surprised Emily a little, even if she found it flattering.

"Why're you so sure? You haven't heard it yet."

"So there's an it to hear."

If there was an it to hear, Spencer wanted to hear  _it_.

"I guess I could say more things."

" _You like it_ ", Spencer mimicked Emily's words again, the same robotic, false monotone. "You mean something like that?  _Yeah, baby, tell me you like it, c'mon, babe, give it to me now_."

Now she didn't sound like a robot. She was pretending to sound really naughty, but failing miserably because she couldn't sound serious or horny enough. In fact, she was hardly containing her laughter.

Emily frowned.

"Or is it something dirty?"

Spencer was having way too much fun with this.

"Isn't that dirty enough?"

"It could be dirtier, you know."

"Dirty like what?"

"Are you trying to get me to say it?", Spencer suspiciously asked. "Cause it's not gonna happen."

Emily smiled widely now.

"Right, you already say enough with your  _shits_  and your  _fucks_ ", Emily hit back, "I'm waiting to hear the next one."

"That's as much as you're ever gonna hear."

"Really? No  _god_  or  _please_  or  _Emily, yes, oh, yes_?"

Spencer blushed, and even Emily could feel the sudden heat in her face even though they were in the dark.

"No", Spencer answered, shying away because she did suppress certain comments that she could hear in her head sometimes. But then she decided to give something away. "Well, maybe  _fuck_  and  _Emily_ , in different orders and with different intonations."

"I think I already heard that."

"And  _you liked it_ , didn't you?", Spencer asked, giving it the proper double, naughty turn, "I  _am_  waiting to hear the next one you have."

"It might gross you out", Emily teased, " _baby_."

"Not the baby thing", Spencer teased back, " _please_."

"I'm taking notes so I don't totally screw it."

"No pun intended."

" _Pun_  intended."

"In that case, you can screw it as much as you want."

Interesting. But complicated.

Emily was getting a little lost in the conversation.

"Really? As much as I want?"

"Test me."

Oh, goodness.

The stakes were high.

"I will." Emily raised the stakes a little more. "But don't complain if you don't like it when you're asking for it."

"Is that a new one?"

Emily didn't understand.

"What?"

" _You're asking for it_ ", Spencer repeated with a sultry tone. "Is that the next one I'm gonna hear?"

"I... No." Emily felt suddenly shy. But then she felt bold again. Just like that. "Why, do you wanna hear that?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"On what you think I'm asking for", Spencer laughed, knowing she was giving Emily a headache now. "Do you wanna _give it to me now_?"

Emily slapped Spencer's shoulder. "Stop it."

"Ouch", Spencer feigned pain. "I thought you wanted to know. And stop hitting me cause you know I can't respond tonight."

"You have other ways."

Lip-Biting.

Tongue-Wars.

Trick questions and forbidden hands.

Spencer propped on her elbows to have a more distinct vision of Emily's face in the dark.

"What do you wanna know?"

"I  _wanna_ know", Emily stood her ground, "what exactly  _you're asking for_  because, you know, whatever I say... when I say it there's no return."

"Find out for yourself."

"You're not helping."

"Why should I help?", Spencer dared, her eyes brightening up so much in the dark. "I thought this started as a conversation about  _you_  being more talkative in bed."

She did have a point.

"Yeah", Emily accepted, "but that's why I need to know."

Spencer seemed to consider her next answer, as if to continue the heavy teasing or to cool it a bit.

"It won't kill the mood, that's pretty sure to say."

Yes!

Confession.

Although Emily wasn't exactly sure about what part of the tease they'd been debating wouldn't kill the mood. But whatever.

"Which one exactly?", she tried. "The  _asking for it_  or the  _give it to me now_? Or is it another one you wanna hear?"

"What else do you have in mind?"

"I have a lot in mind", Emily cryptically suggested, because the stakes were high, "but you'll have to offer something too... if you wanna hear it."

Spencer gave her a weird look.

"You're mean."

"And it turns you on?"

"Yes."

Wow.

Okay.

The stakes were high.

And now Emily got a dry throat. But she felt safe to tease further.

"Seriously? I'll try to murder your lip next time."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Wasn't it?"

Instinctively, Spencer touched Emily's lip with her thumb again.

"I wanted to kill you."

"I think my lip pretty much understood your point."

"I'm sorry", Spencer apologized once more, "it won't happen again."

It won't?

"It  _should_  happen again", Emily whispered, admitting she'd found it sexy, "as long as you don't send me to the hospital."

Although it'd be funny to explain it to Wren... No, no. Still-No-Wren.

Spencer gave her a weirder look now, which Emily couldn't totally decipher. It was a mixture of annoyed and aroused, but at the same time she seemed to be completely surprised about the whole thing.

"If you want me to do it again, I'll guess you'll have to try not to get yourself murdered", Spencer sarcastically replied, "and picked up in a club by another girl, or the other way around, whatever you did, and  _I don't really wanna know_ , and all of that. You know,  _quid pro quo_."

But it was weird because those had been exactly the reasons why she'd gotten so violent with the lip.

"I have no clue what you just said", Emily half-joked, because it was better not to go into the other topic. "Your lip-murdering was kinda intense and hot."

"It was? I'll do it again."

Opening her mouth like a sexy wolf, her white teeth lined up, ready to get bloody, Spencer moved in slow motion to bite Emily's lips again, but Emily pulled away, laughing.

"Not now."

Spencer laughed too, knowing she wasn't going to get bloody ever again. Well, maybe. If Emily liked it, she might have to. Actually, she'd liked it too, at least until she'd realized she'd made her bleed. So maybe she'd just have to find the way to get violent without causing real damage.

Tricky.

But she liked trick questions.

Her expression turned reflective.

"You know,  _quid pro quo_. You were also intense and hot."

"English, Spencer", Emily teased. "And I don't know what you mean."

"You perfectly know what I mean."

"I don't."

"Because you're dumb, right? So I should get a smarter girlfriend or a boyfriend."

Uh, oh.

"Because I wanna hear you say it", Emily managed to make another detour around the dangerous topic, "in English."

"Are you Hanna now? Did I miss something?"

"I'd like to think you can still tell the difference", Emily teased, "or you'll have to get glasses again."

Spencer gaped, because she was so sure Emily understood what she meant. But then she shot a challenging look.

She'd give her what she was after.

Why not?

"Okay,  _I like it_ ", Spencer blurted out, also in a whisper. "There you go. Easy, simple English. Hanna's English.  _I. Liked. It."_

A smirk formed in Emily's lips.

"You like what?"

"Really?"

"What? Is it so mean that I wanna know?"

"It is."

"But it turns you on."

Spencer seemed at a loss of violent actions now that she couldn't punch or toss Emily around, so she used her hand to cover Emily's mouth.

"You're going to shut up now, Em. But you're gonna listen too."

Emily made a primitive sound, trying to speak through Spencer's hand.

"I like everything you do or say in bed, including everything you did and said tonight." Spencer paused, because she was giving this away in return for whatever she would ever hear or experience in the future. " _I fucking liked it_. You hear?"

Emily mumbled something unintelligible.

" _I. Fucking. Liked. It._ ", Spencer repeated, pronouncing every word. "Get it?"

Yes!

Yes, yes, yes.

Emily got it perfectly, and her heart danced an internal happy dance. The words sounded sultry, husky, throaty enough, and Emily's brain felt like it could start having sex again. Only her brain, because her body was already too tired and sore.

Spencer's hand retreated and Emily was able to speak again, her smirk already turning into a wide smile.

"You did, right? I knew it."

Now they were both whispering, like people could hear them talk. But they couldn't. There was no one here. No one but them.

"I guess that's why you felt the need to say it.  _Yeah_."

"I guess."

"And you also wanted to hear a confirmation, right?"

" _I like it._ "

Man.

This tease.

It was impossible to keep  _living_  like this.

Spencer narrowed her eyes, like she was trying to read something in her.

"So this is about  _me_  being more talkative?"

"No, you're loud enough."

Spencer was barely holding herself again, trying to come up with some kind of violent but harmless reaction.

"You... are gonna die."

" _Please_."

The pillow was used against Emily's face, but it was such a soft, careful attempt at death by asphyxiation that it only caused Emily's laughter to go wild when she pushed her back against Spencer's face. It took a while to recover and, once again, she had to rub her eyes to wipe a couple of laughing tears away.

What a night.

"I'm not loud", Spencer complained with a really low voice, throwing the pillow around, but her eyes were still light-flashing the room, "and nobody knows who you truly are, Fields."

Emily kissed her nose.

"Isn't that good?"

Spencer turned reflective again, staring in that special way of hers.

"Yeah", she admitted, "you're always... You could start jumping like a monkey and it'd still turn me on."

Yes!

(No to the monkey, though. Wrong image.)

"A monkey? You're sick."

"It doesn't matter if you're using a pen to write in your Calculus book", Spencer continued giving herself away, "when you should use a pencil to do it, by the way, because  _I like it_. So, yeah, I'm sick."

Yes!

So many of them!

(And she used pens because pencils made her nervous. Did that turn her on too? For real? Because it did sound a little creepy.)

Emily blinked, feeling the impact of all the words sink into her. The funny thing was that, even after truly hearing it, after taking it in and letting it find a pleasurable place inside her, she wanted even more than that; she wanted to keep hearing things, she wanted to keep screaming yes every time. She wanted more than she could ever have. She had more than she thought she'd ever have. And she was  _so_  sure Spencer had liked it that it wasn't as if she even needed confirmation. But she did need it, in a way. She liked the sound of the words in her ears, the taste in her mouth: the rust of blood mixing with sweat and saliva. She liked watching Spencer's lips move to utter the words. Now, if only Spencer would say the words also while they were having sex...

Yes, she had a wicked, wicked heart.

She was mean.

And she could never use a pen again without having to turn around to check whatever Spencer was doing.

Damn.

"It's that bad", Emily laughed, lost in her wicked thoughts of yes, "isn't it?"

Spencer kissed her shoulder sweetly as the only response, the strangest look in her eyes, like she couldn't give anything else away. But her eyes were still giving it. Her eyes were still saying it.

It was  _that_  bad.

Fire.

Fire everywhere.

Fire all the time, with every little thing.

It was not a game or a tease or a sexy war. It was real. 

And, for the first time ever since they started dating, for the first time ever since they started having sex, for the first time  _tonight_ , after everything that had happened, after everything she'd felt every time Spencer was bitter and refused to look at her or examined her, every time they screamed or fell silent, every time they teased around the seemingly harmless words that were keeping them away from The Problem, Emily felt scared… scared of  _everything_ , scared of every word they'd ever said.

It had to be good.

Maybe they shouldn't have had sex. Had she used sex just to claim back what was hers, to force it to stay because  _it was still there_?

The Connection.

"Spencer, it can't be bad. It has to be good."

She spoke so solemnly as if she was swearing an oath, and Spencer shot a confused look now, understanding the tease was over and had transformed into some other sort of thing.

"It  _is_  good."

"No, not sex", Emily explained, a growing sinking feeling in her stomach, "all of us."

Realizing the abrupt change of mood, Spencer cupped Emily's face in her hands, searching for answers.

There were no answers.

They were both so tired, so sensitive to every little thing, to every little word and phrase.

They really needed to sleep.

"It's just a phrase, Em."

"I don't care."

"We're  _good_ ", Spencer affirmed, because she believed it as much as she could believe in anything. Because it was the only thing she truly believed in. And she was giving everything, everything away. "We're  _too_  good. And it's not... Yes, it's been bad tonight and we  _do_  have problems… but they're mainly caused by that fucking animal, and…"

"I love you."

It was the second time Emily said the words tonight.

" _I know_."

They stared at each other, trying to run after emotions that were too hard to define and express in words, at least tonight. It was so late and dark.

"We have to get some sleep", Spencer warned, knowing the talk would lead nowhere now, "we  _really_  do."

"The phone", Emily acknowledged, "tomorrow."

They were so tired they couldn't even articulate proper sentences anymore.

"Today", Spencer corrected.

Emily accommodated, hiding her face in the crook of Spencer's neck, then nuzzling her armpit because she liked the smell of sweaty sex in her. She liked every smell and every taste in her. She liked every form, every tone of voice. It was that bad for her too. It was that bad or that good. But they had to sleep. They both needed to rest. It was okay. They'd sort everything out… tomorrow… or today.

School, Caleb, Hanna, The Phone.

The Pool.

Them.

Us.

Fire.

Sex.

Sex didn't solve problems.

Shut down, brain. Sex was healing (wasn't that a song?). Maybe not  _truly_  healing, but it wasn't as if they weren't going to talk anymore. They were going to sleep and they were going to talk and they were going to be fine. They were going to catch A. And they weren't going to have sex again until their problems were solved, so she wouldn't feel like she was using it to hide from them.

Sex, you know: you did good, but it's over until the next time.

She enveloped Spencer's body with her bad leg, wanting to feel her warmth without any kind of second intention.

Spencer stole a look at the alarm clock: 3.37.

They were going to  _die_.

Slowly, as the minutes passed, Spencer felt Emily's muscles relaxing, falling off into the peaceful sleep Emily especially needed to recover her strength. It took a while until Emily rolled over on her back, unconsciously searching for the less painful position, but she dragged Spencer's arm and leg behind, wanting to be spooned now. And Spencer, the big spoon, embraced Emily, gently covering her chest with her arm as she struggled to catch her own sleep. More minutes passed as she lay in bed, thinking about how she should fall asleep too. But she didn't. She just lay there, wondering about the best way to protect the body that was lying down next to hers. The body she loved. The body that had scared the shit out of her tonight, that had lied and later apologized about it, that kept fighting her in every way, in every damn  _field_. The body whose touch drove her crazy, the body she couldn't resist. She had tried (a little) but she'd known, even before Emily knew about it, she'd known they were going to have sex, because she just wouldn't resist it. She spent hours of every day thinking about it. She felt it every time she looked at her.

And she looked at her now, full lips, delicate, thick eyebrows, peaceful lids covering her eyes. There was no one ever so beautiful to put a foot in this world. It was so heartbreaking and so touching. It was inside of her too, in her heart.

This was the body she loved.

The body that had to keep swimming, whatever the cost. The body that was hers to care for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned is "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye.


	27. Feet, Don't Fail Me Now

"Emily?"

The bed slightly moved as she sat on it, but Emily's only response was to duck her head under the pillow.

"Em." She squeezed her shoulder softly as her raspy voice called the name again. "Em, you need to get up."

"Five more minutes."

Emily's voice sounded hoarse under the pillow, but pleading as the one of a little child.

"I already gave you half an hour while I was taking a shower."

Emily's face finally made an appearance from under the pillow. She opened one eye, which seemed to be blinded by the faint light that came from one of the lamps on the bedside table.

"You took a shower?"

Her one sleepy eye examined Spencer's face: hair carefully worn in a loose braid, curls in all the right places; slight, formal make up; she looked clean and fresh despite her tired brown eyes. And she smelled of her sweet autumn perfume. Then the eye scanned down to Spencer's tight light-blue sweater and even lower to her tight red-with-a-wide-black-stripe skirt. Tight being the key word in her sleepy eyeing of Spencer's clothes.

"You got _dressed_?"

Now she sounded almost as if she'd been slapped or drowned in cold water to wake up: startled, and offended by it.

"I wanted to give you time to sleep."

The truth was that, since Spencer had barely slept at all tonight, she'd decided to get up, take a shower to freshen up and gain the energy she needed for the day. So she was already prepared to face the day even before the day had begun. However, Emily had been sleeping soundly and Spencer had given her as much time as she could to recover. But there was no more time now and she had to get Emily out of bed: Spencer leaned over Emily's semi-covered head and slowly sank her fingers into her dark long hair and down her neck, an affectionate gesture to help her deal with the horrendous moment of awakening when it was still so dark outside. However, the gesture only caused Emily to close her eye again and sigh in pleasure. A head-and-neck massage was probably not the best idea to wake someone up and get her out of bed, so Spencer stopped the massage and moved her hand to Emily's naked back. Touching her bare skin didn't seem like the best idea either, unfortunately. Emily sighed contentedly again, her body warm and inviting under the sheets. After a little hesitation, Spencer finally decided to move her hand away and use her voice.

"Em. It's time."

Emily's eyes were closed, but at least she mumbled something.

"Can't we stay here today?"

"I wish we could", Spencer sighed, "but we really need to go. Coffee's waiting for you in the kitchen."

Emily's whole face appeared from under the pillow now, pouty lips and open dark eyes. Her full, meaty lower lip was still swollen from Spencer's hard sexy biting last night. One more wound of war.

"I'm not you, I don't want coffee", Emily whined, "I _really_ need sleep."

"I know, but…"

"Why do you look so good?"

Spencer cocked an eyebrow.

"Thank you." She appreciated the comment because she'd barely slept ten minutes before the alarm had set off and she'd gone to the bathroom to work on her image. She didn't want to look like one of The Walking Dead today, so it was nice to hear she was looking good. "You're gonna need coffee anyway."

"Couldn't we just skip class?"

Now, this was too much. Emily was _not_ Hanna.

"Em, do you really want Ms. Marin to ground you during the weekend? And to tell your mom about it?"

Spencer ruthlessly pulled the sheets off now, exposing Emily's body to the fresh air of the early morning… and to her sight. Goosebumps immediately covered Emily's tan skin, and Spencer felt both sorry and turned on about it.

The wonders of love.

But she'd be ruthless anyway. She had to be.

"Plus everything else", she continued in a firm voice as she stared at the bandaged hand and thigh, "which is gonna look highly suspicious and you'll have to explain today, so you'd better start taking care of that _now_."

Pam Fields' menace always worked in these cases, even if she lived in Texas. Plus _everything else_ , which obviously Emily would be delighted to forget about, but couldn't.

Emily frowned in concern, yawned, and started to move out of bed.

She shot Spencer a look full of resent.

"You don't need to sound so bitchy."

"Sorry", Spencer said truthfully, "but it's the only way."

"Can I get a shower too?"

"You don't have time", Spencer replied, "it was either the shower or letting you sleep, and you can get the shower at Hanna's."

Emily nodded and yawned again, but looked completely disgusted with herself.

"I can't get out like this."

"No one's gonna see you."

"I'm stinking."

Spencer kneeled besides her, her tight skirt rolling up a little.

"Well, no one's gonna smell you either. And you're cute."

"No, _you_ are cute", Emily protested, looking at Spencer's perfect appearance and then at her perfect long legs, "because you got a shower and clothes and perfume. No, it's worse than that, you're perfect, you're perfectly… fuckable." There was a silence when Emily couldn't totally believe the words that had escaped her mouth, so she tried to quickly cover them up with something else. "And I'm a stinky mess who has no clean clothes to put on."

Spencer was blushing now, mainly out of amusement.

The crude sexual honesty was probably a consequence of their after-sex-tease last night… well, just a couple of hours ago. And Emily was still so sleepy she couldn't even filter what she was saying. Besides, if there was someone fuckable right now it was Emily… she was naked except for the shorts and Spencer could still smell sex in her. Basically, it was taking all of her willpower and discipline not to tell herself a lie about having five more minutes to jump in bed and send the day, Ms. Marin, Mrs. Fields, school, Caleb and A to rot in hell.

No.

She had enough willpower and discipline because it was _necessary_ that she had them now. She'd been sloppy enough for the past months; that almost got Emily killed; not to talk about Emily's thoughts about quitting the team. Therefore, sloppy, cheesy, horny Spencer was over. Love and sex wouldn't keep her from doing everything that had to be done, everything that was in her power to do to end A's game of destruction once and forever: even if it sounded like yet another New Year's resolution, this time it was true.

Besides, she needed Emily to be completely available during the next days.

"Well, thanks again, but you're a cute-and-very-fuckable stinky mess who has to get out of bed _right now_ ", Spencer ordered, "in order to become a… you know, a cute-and-very-fuckable normal person. And I need to drive you home so that can actually happen."

Emily shot her a less resentful look this time, finally deciding to stand up.

"Can I at least wash my face?"

"Yes, but please be _really, really_ quick", Spencer begged, taking a look at her watch, "we should be there already."

The look Spencer received now wasn't resentful… It was quite the opposite, a mixture of sleepy naughtiness and surprise, and her knees weakened upon the realization.

Love and sex were tricky, tricky things.

Love and sex.

For some reason, tonight had sent them up one or two stages in their relationship. It was their personal video-game. Something awful happened, and here they were: Spencer and Emily suddenly skipped two stages of the game, and now Emily was a super-hero, Spencer a frustrated dictator (but she'd make everything work), and they were both hornier than ever before. There was no way to understand their life at all. There was no way. They should write a book or make a movie about it. Or a TV show. Once they got to know who A was and throw the beast in jail.

"I can be quick", Emily smirked, " _but_ … yeah, I get what you mean."

Thankfully, she didn't try anything. She seemed to be awakening too to the new day and all its problems. But Spencer only got her willpower back when Emily did turn around to walk away to the bathroom and she felt safe from… God, did she really have _no_ way of resisting her? It was annoying… if it wasn't because _she liked it_. Too much. She liked it too much.

Anyway, life was insanely hard sometimes.

Or simply insane.

And it wasn't so easy to kill sloppy, cheesy, horny Spencer, apparently.

"I'll be downstairs waiting for you."

That'd make it easier. Besides, she'd left the pants and sweater Emily wore yesterday night along with a toothbrush and her dress in the bathroom, so Emily could be even quicker that way. Anyway, Spencer needed her second cup of coffee, because her battery was starting to run off already, and the day hadn't even started yet.

Emily nodded without looking back, resigned to follow orders and start the day in a bad, stinky shape, unaware, as usual, of how cute she looked no matter how bad she thought she looked.

Spencer took a deep breath because she was, in fact, always aware of it.

Ten minutes later they were in Spencer's car, both with a cup of coffee in their hands. For Spencer it was the third one of the (initiating) day, but she was lucky Emily didn't know about it or else she'd be the one to receive scolding looks and angry words now. Not that she was going to let Emily have any say about _her_ health when it was evident she was giving a shit about her _own_. Although, maybe, she shouldn't make use of last night very often… since it'd most probably get them into fights like the one they had had some hours ago.

She mentally checked everything they had to do today.

Besides school and homework she couldn't finish yesterday and a meeting with the debate team, plus a visit to the GSA club which she was actually considering to join, she had to drive Emily to get her car back. Emily had to show her the messages in the library (great _expectations_ for the day!) as well as the picture in her car. They had to meet Caleb at her house again by 6.30 p.m. She had to keep an eye on Hanna to see if she hadn't gone crazy about Caleb yet. And, depending on what Caleb found inside the phone, they'd have to discuss what to do next… which was, once again, great: they were going to have more discussions (especially with Hanna, she just knew) when what they needed was a decision, hence a ruthless, valiant dictator who could make it. But it had to be a productive, smart, benevolent dictator; not a sloppy, cheesy, horny one like her.

Damnit.

Why did she have to believe in democracy and participation? And in the rule of the best argument, which was usually hers anyway?

She turned on the radio, raging voices discussing the role of working women in society.

Bleh.

Music.

A new chick was singing a sultry, decadent song about the bliss of self-destruction in love and sex and drugs and whatever. 

_Feet, don't fail me now…_

_Take me to the finish line…_

Well, Spencer thought, if you wanted your feet to walk steadily to the finish line you had to start by sleeping enough hours, getting loads of coffee and you obviously had to stop taking drugs (although coffee was some kind of a drug, now that she considered it). Probably you had to dump the wild guy you were madly in love with as well, if he was making you sad and cry, and, basically, if he was behaving like a druggie and a liar, no matter how immensely handsome and funny he was…

Change back to working women.

Emily was dozing off, her forehead against the passenger's window, holding her cup with both of her hands and between her legs as if to warm herself up.

"What are you gonna do about the bandages?", Spencer blurted out, "cause I think you can get rid of the one in your hand after you clean it up in the shower, but you'll have to tell Hanna to help you cover the thigh, at least, and check it during the day… or else you'll need to go to the hospital and skip swim practice."

Emily turned to look at her, and everything about her was haze-sleeping right now.

"I don't think I'll need to go to the hospital."

"Well, you'll have to actually _look_ at the wound before deciding on that."

"I'll look at the wound", Emily conceded, "and then I'll decide I don't need to go to the hospital."

Did she _always_  have to be this stubborn and frustrating? Or did she just do it to piss her off?

"You know there's more than _one_ doctor in the hospital, right?"

As if she didn't know the actual reason why Emily refused to go to the hospital.

"Sure", Emily answered cheekily, "I do know that, plus the painkillers are working."

"You can't only trust painkillers, Em… The wound could get infected, and…"

Emily shot a cutting look, suddenly awaken.

"Spence, _I know_. I'll go to the hospital if the wound's getting infected, okay? Relax."

Well, she supposed that was enough of a _promise_.

"What are you gonna tell the team? And Hanna's mom, who'll probably ask too, if she bothers to look at your face…"

It was awful: whenever she had so much coffee and started the day so early and had so many things in her head, she couldn't really shut up. If she shut up, she was going to fall asleep… or to have sex in the car, which was also a very bad idea.

Emily widened her eyes.

"Spencer!", she called out. "How many coffees have you already had?"

Damnit.

"Caffeine's the smallest of your problems."

"It's the biggest one if you're killing yourself with it."

Oh, no.

No.

They weren't going to make this _about her_.

"I'd say it's still the smallest one", Spencer argued, causing Emily to roll her eyes at her, "so…"

They were already arriving at Hanna's, and she reduced the speed and parked the car a little distant from the front door, across the street. That way the car wouldn't get easily noticed. Then she turned the engine off, so it could go even _more_ unnoticed, and the night grew silent and almost dark again, distant, faded orangish blurs starting to paint the cold, blue sky.

Thieves in the night.

Thieves in the early morning dust.

Emily grabbed Spencer's cup of coffee and stared at her.

"So… I'll say I was running and fell… which is the truth", Emily answered the question with Aria's version of the truth. "And you're not taking any more of this."

"Sure."

She could get another one at home before going to school. Anyway she had to go back before leaving for class, because she had a whole lot of books to pick up and return to the library, so…

"Don't _sure_ me. I know how to do it too."

Yes, she did.

"It's _my_ decision to drink as much coffee as I want", Spencer sarcastically replied, gaining a much more dramatic eye-roll by Emily. "I just didn't sleep well tonight. Or enough."

Concern painted Emily's sleepy features.

"You didn't fall asleep like me?"

Spencer shook her head no.

"It took me a little while."

One more hour.

"But it was so late", Emily remembered. "How long?"

"I'm not sure, maybe an hour."

Emily made that cute pouty face she made when she felt guilty about something, and her swollen lip swell even more with the apologetic gesture.

"But that means… you didn't sleep, like, _at all_."

Spencer sort of nodded. She'd actually drifted off for ten or fifteen minutes.

"I'm sorry."

"Like I said, caffeine's the smallest of _our_ problems right now."

Emily opened the car door but, instead of getting out, she just bent down to place both cups of coffee on the ground, away from Spencer's eyes and hands. After losing balance due both to the SUV's height and her sleepiness, she grabbed the handle like it was life-saving and closed the door again. Then she turned to seriously stare at Spencer, who was smiling her copyrighted smirk, once again amused with Emily's coffee-protective actions.

She was so freaking cute it gave her a headache.

"You have to go inside _now_ ", Spencer said, ruthless and valiant, "and I'll see you in two hours."

Emily nodded, accepting it.

"I'm sorry you couldn't sleep."

"It's not your fault."

"Oh, really? You sound _so_ believable."

Spencer returned the cutting stare, but now she grabbed Emily's damaged hand, softly pulling the saluting fingers that stuck out of the bandage.

"Fine, it's your fault", she mocked softly, "are you getting out of the car now?"

"No."

Big surprise.

"Why?"

Emily took a deep breath.

"What time are we meeting Caleb? You don't have to feel like you're doing this alone."

"I'm a lone wolf, I like to do things on my own, you know."

"Cut the crap off, Spencer."

"6.30 p.m. My place."

Emily gave another serious nod.

"I'll be there."

"I don't doubt it."

Emily seemed resigned again and, without disentwining their fingers, she moved closer to give Spencer a quick kiss on the lips before getting out.

It was Spencer who stopped her, not letting the fingers go.

"Wait."

Emily carefully closed the door again and approached her with an interrogative expression.

She was so _insanely_ beautiful.

Damn the lack of sleep and the excess of caffeine, it was making her feel too much again.

"I can't…", Spencer stuttered over her too many feelings, "I can't ask you about…"

Emily squeezed her hand in return.

"Ask."

"You won't…" So many things had happened that she wasn't sure how to talk to her about things anymore. What verb tenses, what verb forms to use. So she coughed her stutter away and tried to use the best words she could think of. "Just tell me you won't make any decision today or tomorrow… that you're gonna wait until we see what's going on with the phone… _please_."

But it did sound like she was pleading for a _promise_ , right?

And that wasn't going to work.

Emily frowned at her.

"Of course not, Spencer. I'll… I won't…"

She didn't know how to talk about it either. Maybe it was not the time yet. 5.41 a.m.

"Just tell me you'll wait until we see what's going on. I need you to wait."

Wait for me.

Wait till I do my job.

"I'll wait, Spence, that's for sure", Emily assured, "I mean, it's… I don't think there's anyone who wants this more than me. And especially I won't do anything without _you_ knowing…"

Spencer breathed.

That wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear, but it was at least close. But how close? She'd already listened to similar things. And they kept talking about the future, using words that would help them get a grip of reality so they could keep getting up in the morning and going to bed in the evening and living every day like there was some kind of control, some stability in their lives. But the truth was there wasn't any control and everything could change in a second with a single text A sent to one of them, and nobody would know about it.

Nobody would know.

Not even her.

"You don't quit something you love when things get tough, Emily."

Emily's expression hardened.

"Are we talking about this now?"

"No."

It wasn't the right moment, that was true. But there was this fear of anything, of everything. That was the reason Emily didn't want to leave the car and that was the reason Spencer didn't want Emily to leave the car. Not yet.

Besides, she couldn't put a GPS control and a mind-control in Emily, right?

"I'll never quit the team _if_ I have some other choice."

"There's always another choice."

"Right", Emily said, "there's the choice of waiting until my life's destroyed so I can _fight_ to claim it back, but that's the one I'm not gonna consider… cause I already live kinda like that all the time."

Spencer felt her heart twist and shrink and cry.

"You know, what you said yesterday… or some hours ago… about _me_ going to jail. It wasn't like _this_."

"Spencer, I know that."

"Because I would've never gone to jail _on purpose_ , I would've never gone to the police to tell them to put handcuffs on me just because I was in love with you."

Emily rolled her teary eyes.

"Was?"

"Am."

Verb tenses.

"I never tried to say it was the same thing, Spencer", Emily struggled to explain, "I tried to say this is… And I'm not even saying I'll quit the team forever… or even that I'll quit at all. I'm just saying it'd be a…" She tried to search for the most adequate expression. "It'd just be an strategy to get the swim team out of this mess, and at the same time to get _us_ out of it."

"You're not gonna get _us_ out by quitting the team, Em."

"I might get a part of us out."

"Which part?"

"The part that's scared it's gonna happen any moment", Emily crudely exclaimed, "the part that's scared it's gonna hurt us… it's gonna _use_ us even more."

Spencer sighed, understanding the feeling of constant fear and pressure. But she had to deactivate it because… she really did. It was the wrong decision if Emily ever decided on it.

"But you don't know that", Spencer argued her best argument, "and it's a cowardly thing to do to think about quitting when you don't know something for sure…"

Oh, she'd said the wrong word.

She could see Emily's eyes filling with even more tears, her upper lip trembling with the sound of Spencer's words.

"Okay, so I'm a coward", Emily defensively accepted, "I get it, but this coward thinks it might be a good strategy for us. And it's still _my_ call."

My call, my decision.

"You're not a coward. I didn't mean it like that."

"But you _said_ it. That's what you think anyway so you _can_ say it. You're _allowed_ to say it."

She was _really_ hurt.

"I don't think you're a coward and _you know._ "

"No, I don't know what you think about me. I know you love me just as much as I love you", she said, surprisingly verbal, "and I know you think I'm _too_ good, and I know you wanna protect me. But, you see, it's not… It's not about you thinking I was always so great because I _came out_ of the closet, because I never actually _came out_ of it. I was sorta pushed out and then I had to live with it. So you can say it, Spence, it's okay."

"But you were always _great_ ", Spencer argued, a little taken aback, "what do you mean? Em, there's no one I…"

"Admire so much, right? Cause I was always so brave."

"You _were_. It takes a lot to…"

"I don't care."

Spencer moved nervously on her seat, because she wasn't being allowed to finish any of her sentences and that always made her nervous. But it'd been her who'd screwed up the conversation this time, by mentioning the coward word to a person who was constantly being attacked with the weak-link weapon, so it was up to her to fix it. She lifted her feet up to the seat so she could turn to face Emily directly. It was a little hard with her skirt, but she made it, bending both of her knees and letting them rest on the seat. Then she took her flats off, guessing it'd take a few minutes until she left.

"Just because all of that happened to you", she started, "and so much else, Em, and you're still _who_ you are…"

"That makes me the bravest person in the world."

"Yes", she confirmed, "and… you _kissed_ me. I never had the guts to even realize there was something between us and…"

"So?" This caught Emily by surprise. "You… It's not about guts. I'm pretty sure you'd have sexually assaulted me if you _had_ actually realized there was something."

"Sexually assaulted you?"

That might be a little too much for a starter.

Emily gave a little smile.

"I'm kidding… But you would've talked to me if you _had_ seen it. But you didn't, because you're not like that."

"Like what? Like _gay_?"

Emily rolled her eyes again.

"Like the person who knows everything", Emily explained, "yes, you know a lot of things… but you don't _see_ everything because sometimes you're just thinking of some other enormous question that's incredibly more important."

Books.

Internships.

The future of the world.

A.

"What could be more important than this?"

Perhaps she _would_ have sexually assaulted her if she had _seen_ it. Like she would sexually assault her now if she could, if they had time, if things were normal.

"Exactly", Emily eagerly confirmed, "there's nothing. Not even A."

Spencer shrugged, teary-eyed as well. "Nothing."

"You weren't _looking at it_ , Spencer", Emily explained for the millionth time, "you thought you were in love with someone else. Why's it so hard to accept for you?"

She didn't know why, but it still bothered her so much.

She shrugged again, her shoulders giving away the feeling of frustration.

"I should've been looking at it."

They were _best friends_.

"Well, you weren't, and it's _fine_. I wasn't looking at it either until it was just… too obvious to ignore."

They both fell silent, wondering about how they'd ended up here, talking about the beginning of Them again. But that wasn't the beginning. Nobody knew the beginning.

Oh, bravery.

That was why they were talking about this.

Guts.

Outings.

Weak-Links.

"I do think you're one of the bravest persons I know, Em. You're a survivor, you're strong. You can take anything."

Emily gave her one of her wise, knowing smiles. The ones that still amazed her, because they came from such a shy, sweet human being.

"We're all survivors."

"We are", Spencer admitted, "nothing can take us down."

And nothing would.

Nothing.

Emily moved a little closer, wanting to meet Spencer's gaze more directly.

"We should play it every night while we're sleeping", Emily joked, "until we finally believe it. _We're gonna make it. Nothing will ever take us down._ With your voice so it sounds better."

She faked a really low voice, which actually came out a little hoarse because of the lack of sleep.

"I know it sounds like psycho-babble stuff", Spencer admitted, and god did she hate that kind of self-affirming statements, "but it's true, we'll make it through this."

"No matter what."

"No matter what", Spencer agreed, smiling, "against all odds."

"It sounds like a song, not like psycho-babble bullshit", Emily said, "I know because I'm taking a psycho-babble class this year… and you're not in it. It'd sound more like _learning to say no is part of everyday's yes_. Or something tricky like that."

Spencer laughed, feeling light-hearted all of a sudden. Maybe it was her own enormous love-and-sex intoxication but, even though she'd always had this gorgeous sweet-but-sly thing about her, Emily was getting sexier by the minute.

"Right, Aria's taking it too."

Emily nodded. "We're psycho-babbling together."

"You two are probably _too_ good at it", Spencer chuckled, "so you should come up with a line… you know, for us. _We're gonna break through the eyes of darkness_. That sounds more like Aria talking about Jenna, though."

Emily smiled widely.

"It does."

"You have to come up with one that's just yours."

She seemed to think about it.

"I'm just too tired to think of one now."

"You already said a couple."

"But they're not good enough…" She struggled with herself, frowning intensely, and it was again so sexy to see her like that. " _We'll go all the way to infinity… and beyond_ ", she finally said, shrugging, "but it's not mine… although you should know I do believe it _very_ strongly."

" _Toy Story_. That's a good one."

"You watched it?"

Her eyes sparkled when she asked.

"I was a child once, you know."

"A child who watched The History Channel."

" _I've got nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat_ ", Spencer contributed her fake orator voice, " _and we have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind_. But we'll make it, cause I say so."

Emily raised her brow comically, because she'd recognized the famous Churchill war speech.

"You're far too skinny to say those words, Prime Minister."

"How dare you call Mr. Churchill skinny?"

"I'm certainly not calling _him_ skinny."

They laughed, clearly entertained with their joke.

Life was _insane_.

"So you're saying I'm skinny… And here I was thinking you were so dumb you wouldn't recognize Mr. Churchill talking to you."

Emily wisely decided to let the dumb-joke go.

"I'm saying you're way prettier and less sweaty than Mr. Churchill."

"That's not the word you used when you woke up."

Emily blushed, rushed blood darkening her high cheeks.

"True. But it means the same."

Spencer smirked, knowing life was insane, knowing one more step and they'd be making out in the car.

Love and sex.

They were calling her like sirens, tempting her to make her fall into the sea.

She internally called her self-discipline to order, averting her eyes from Emily's blush to check the lights of the Marins' house and in the sky.

Everything was still dark.

"Point being", she went back to her analytic, slightly ironic tone, "we'll win this war, cause we're the good ones."

"We will."

" _You_ will."

Their tone was serious again, and Emily moved even closer to her. Now the fabric of her borrowed pants was touching her shin, and even though the tease was over she felt her discipline easily wavering and shying away from her, the bitch. She needed to resist her own impulses or they'd never break through the eyes of darkness, they'd never go to infinity… and beyond, they'd never go anywhere out of Rosewood, never be free.

Emily looked deep into her eyes.

Infinity.

Beyond.

"If you think I can win the war too", she asked quietly, "why can't you accept this might be a good strategy if things really go against us?"

Spencer felt her heart cringe again, cry again.

"Because it's a _mistake_." She tried to explain her point once more. "You don't quit your dream, Em, your plans, you don't give them over to an enemy on a silver plate."

"I never said I'd quit swimming forever, Spence", Emily repeated, but didn't sound so quiet anymore, "I said it'd be an strategy to keep the HGH from being released."

"I know, but it's… the _wrong_ strategy", Spencer summarized, "you won't…"

You won't survive.

It will kill you.

And if it kills you, it will kill me.

But she had just said Emily would win the war. They would all win the fucking war.

England under the bombs.

The _Blitz_ : that was the name. England resisted through the continuous bombings during 1940 and 1941, before the United States entered the war after Pearl Harbour. They were alone, isolated. France had already been defeated. The Soviet Union had a pact with the Nazis before they were invaded too. They were alone and isolated but they resisted, an island under fire, under lightning.

The _Blitz_.

She had been a History Channel kind of kid. She was still that kid, in a sense.

"It won't kill me", Emily answered, "I will survive. Didn't we just say that?"

Emily read between the lines so perfectly. She could always read her so well, defy her so well.

It made her shiver.

"But it's… not right."

"You know what?", Emily said, and Spencer looked straight at her, forgetting her thoughts about England and World War II. "A can kill _any_ of us like he or she killed Ali, and that's the real problem we have."

Spencer gave her a tell-me-about-it kind of look.

"You should know after facing death a few hours ago."

Emily looked down, ashamed.

"Yeah."

"Well, apart from that, it's still…"

It would destroy her.

All of her plans.

"So basically you believe I'll be perfectly fine when _everybody_ out there's thinking I used drugs to become a swimmer, right?", Emily asked, back to defying Spencer. "And _that_ won't kill me."

No, that was bad too.

Spencer knew how bad it was, how _not_ right it was. But they would fight it, prove it, kill it.

England under the bombs.

She felt suddenly so weak and heavy, like the whole world was falling on her and she was far too skinny to carry it conveniently. She needed thick layers of grease and muscle to lift it, to endure the weight of it. More than that, she needed sleep and caffeine, but not at the same time. And sex. But not at the same time. Maybe one after the other: caffeine, sleep, caffeine, sex, sleep, sex, caffeine, etc.

Was Churchill having sex when he had to defend England from the _Blitz_?

It was unlikely, given his not very appealing looks, to put it nicely.

She returned Emily's questioning gaze.

"I'll always look out for you."

Was that all that she had to offer? Her blood and toil and tears and sweat. And her brain.

Emily's black eyes shone as she pulled Spencer's legs apart to make room and approach her with her entire body. Soon they were again breath to breath, eye to eye, and her own body trembled when she felt her skirt _really_ struggling to roll up in this half-sitting position. They obviously kissed (it was bound to happen) and Spencer tasted the swell in Emily's lip, the scar that'd be hers, a product of her doing, although it'd leave an invisible mark, unlike the ones left by A on Emily's thigh and hand.

Bites, bruises, scars.

Her tongue would gladly taste and lick all of them again, right now.

Their noses brushed when their tongues abandoned the game, and she felt afraid Emily was going to push her skirt up as much as it'd be possible in the car and to start another game, one they shouldn't be playing here and now. She felt afraid, but she wanted it to happen too.

It was that bad.

It was _insane_.

But it didn't happen, and Emily left her skirt alone.

"You'll always look out for me", Emily repeated instead, "you'll always be with me."

"I'll always look out for you."

"Same here."

She felt herself melting in too many ways.

However, they were stuck in a romantic verbal promise which, anyway, was _true_. And they both knew it was true. But it was a promise. It was as good as words and hormones and flying saucers in a world where so many things could happen tomorrow.

And it didn't solve the problem.

But it was true.

"I'll help you", Spencer tried once again, "we'll get A."

Now she wasn't sure if she was talking only about catching A, about helping Emily through the HGH release or about supporting her whatever the decision she made.

She was probably talking about all of it.

But she didn't want to.

"I have a question too", Emily said, reading between the lines again. "Can I ask?"

Spencer nodded, approving of any question Emily wanted to ask, but feeling afraid of them as well.

Emily seemed to be struggling with the same feelings, because she was hesitant to choose the words.

"I can't even say it", she finally said, laughing a little nervously, "I _am_ dumb."

"Just say it."

She exhaled air in a long breath as if to encourage herself.

"Will you call it off if I do something you don't… you know, if you don't like it? And I don't mean kissing someone or calling people's numbers or fooling around or _any_ of the things you'd obviously dump me for."

"What do you mean then?"

Spencer knew what she meant, but if Emily wanted an answer she'd have to say all the words.

"If I quit", Emily said, locking her gaze with hers. "Will you try to stop me by breaking up with me? If you think I'm fucking my life up… Like you broke it off with Toby to keep him safe."

"It's not the same situation."

"That's not what I asked, Spencer."

"You're not gonna quit", Spencer panicked, "you're giving me time."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes I'm giving _us_ time. I'm giving everything time."

Spencer opened her mouth, trying to think as her heart rushed to her throat.

"I can't let you quit."

But she couldn't break up or call it off. Emily wasn't Toby. She broke up with Toby to keep him safe. But it wasn't the same thing.

Why were they even talking about breaking up after kissing?

"So you'll call it off to stop it."

"I didn't say that."

"You haven't answered, Spencer."

"I _did_ ", Spencer defended her point, "I said I can't let you quit."

Emily sighed. "You know if you call it off… it won't work."

They stared at each other, once again calculating too many things at once.

"It's not about quitting this or quitting that, Em", Spencer finally replied, annoyed and frustrated. "It doesn't… I don't _quit_. It's not who I am."

But she _had_ quit Toby, if only to save him.

"You quit Toby."

Did she have to _always_ read her mind?

"Cause it _was_ Toby, not _you_. And it's not the same thing. Toby didn't even know about A."

Emily nodded in understanding, but kept looking straight at her, reading her.

"That's why I'm asking you."

"Are you afraid I will?"

She looked down now, shaking her head in an ambiguous manner. Yes and no.

"I need to know how you feel about it."

"You don't quit the things you love", Spencer answered heatedly. "Works for both of us, Em, it goes in two directions."

Emily breathed deeply, then gave her the sweetest kind of expression.

"And you know… calling it off won't do."

"Do what?" She somehow knew what Emily meant, but she asked anyway.

"Stop us."

Spencer swallowed, because Emily seemed to be so certain nothing would ever stop them.

"You seem so sure."

"That's because I'm sure", Emily replied, frowning. "You're not?"

Were they going to fight again?

Or was Emily trying to convince her even though she'd said she wasn't a quitter?

Funny thing was she also knew quitting wouldn't stop them. It wouldn't stop _her_. If they ever called it off to fool A, or even if she tried to use that as her own strategy to stop Emily from making the wrong decision, she couldn't… No, she couldn't even _stand_ the thought of it. She would see her everyday. She would touch her – eventually she would. She would sexually assault her the second she saw her in a dark corner, especially if Emily wanted to be found there.

Love and sex were tricky, tricky things.

Cheesy, horny dictators in love.

Rule of best argument.

Hormones.

Hormones made the best arguments.

Hormones should die.

Only brains should survive.

Caffeine.

She had had too much of it, but it would keep her brain running for the day.

"I don't wanna stop us", Spencer summed up, "and I won't."

"And you can't."

Why did Emily have to use that argument to show her they wouldn't be able to stop it? It wasn't as if she'd even brought it up, yet Emily was making sure to exercise her powers.

It was frustrating.

But it was sexy too.

She tried to turn the tables on her.

"And you could?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you wouldn't be able to stop it either."

Emily smirked, but it was sweet again.

"You're… _too_ right."

If they both couldn't do it, why weren't they having sex right now? She wrapped her hands around Emily's neck in order to pull her closer for another kiss, but she stopped the move right when Emily was parting her lips to continue the dance.

She had powers too.

Amazing powers.

"Cause I'd make sure to look perfectly fuckable every day, you know."

Emily widened her eyes and her cheeks blushed so furiously it was impossible not to notice despite her dark, tan skin.

Powers.

Hormones worked in both directions.

Emily swallowed her embarrassment away, but her eyes darkened, consuming and playful.

"You're right… again."

Yes, calling it off… it would _never_ work.

But there was a reason why they weren't having sex right now: willpower, discipline, ruthlessness.

It was because they were discussing problems.

They had to catch A.

And Emily had to get inside the Marins'.

Now.

So she let go of her neck after offering a chaste kiss that clearly surprised Emily, who was probably expecting something a little more heated than that.

"You have to get inside. It's getting late."

Although, in truth, it was getting early.

She couldn't avoid the let-down voice, and Emily smiled in recognition as she turned to look at the house, trying to collect her own willpower and discipline.

She opened the door, preparing to leave the car, to leave for the day to start, and Spencer fought herself, told herself she was just leaving for a couple of hours, she would see her in a couple of hours, and everything would seem a little more normal at school. But things had seemed relatively normal at school - yesterday. Couldn't she just found a GPS, a mind-control that would work inside Emily? Couldn't she just... make her stick around all the time, manage to convince fathers, mothers, friends, teachers, people in general, people of the world, to just let her stick around all the time?

Two hours.

Emily was hopping out but then she backed down, regretting something, and Spencer saw the blazing blackness of her eyes approaching her for a last kiss.

No, it would _never_ work.

Instead of a kiss, she felt Emily's lips brushing her cheek to reach her left ear, where her teeth softly grazed the lobe before speaking in a secret whisper, making her tremble and jump into the ocean, all senses lost in pure infinity and sheer insanity.

"You wouldn't even need to try, Spencer. You always look perfect like that, always."

She didn't totally understand at first. But then she did and, despite the shyness, or because of it, the words sounded so _insanely_ hot she had to grab Emily's head until her mouth was on hers and they were again kissing a little too hard and a little too heavy. It lasted a few seconds, maybe a couple of minutes, she didn't know exactly how long, and the smell drove her crazy because Emily still smelled of a bed, of _their_ bed, and this was a car and a car was just as good as any other place… well, probably not if they were parked in front of the Marins'. And there were reasons why they were parked here and not in some dark, deserted corner of the world where her skirt would totally roll up and Emily's pants would totally roll down. And, more than anything now, she had to be ruthless and valiant and disciplined.

Not wanting to let go, she let go, she pushed away to go.

She had to.

She watched her cross the street and walk towards the Marins' still dark and quiet house, just one minute past the hour Hanna had set as a limit. Her sex-stinky, cute-messy swaying figure opened the door and sneaked in masterfully, like she was already used to that kind of thing. She was. They all were: sneaking in and out in the strangest circumstances one could ever imagine. Life was so insanely hard and crazy. Once Emily disappeared inside, Spencer thought she should go home, have more coffee, finish homework, wait until she'd go to school again. But she didn't. She just stayed in front of the house, watching the lights of day advance and finally break through the night, exactly like they would finally break through this lightning, bombing war, through this _insane_ life where they talked about jails and murders and sacrifices: she promised herself she'd be strong, this time she would be strong for real, she'd take everything seriously again instead of whining and she'd win and A would be defeated. Emily had offered time. She wanted this more than any of them. Well, that wasn't actually true. All of them wanted the phone to work, even Hanna; all of them wanted this war over and done with. Everyone had to fight their battles, now it was her turn to really fight hers - and win.

The day was here, and she turned the engine on, heading back to her empty house.

Time.

And time passed in a frenzy, hectic rush of days and weeks while they worked with Caleb, watched the videos where some of their main suspects – Ian, Garret, Jenna – danced and faded out in Alison's room the last day she was alive, quarrelled with Hanna after she decided to destroy part of the evidence in order to save Caleb from being targeted, carried on a pact of silence with Caleb to keep Hanna out of the phone-operation, searched the city for leads that drove to more leads, cornered Garret to make him nervous, to let him know they were getting close, they were breathing on his neck, received angry, ironic, cryptic texts from A, always riding on caffeine, always riding high on caffeine and love and sex and self-discipline to keep themselves awake and running. Two weeks passed and Spencer received a text from A ( _Are you gonna let her drown? -A_ ) and Emily received more texts from A, and Aria and Hanna received their own texts from A. Two weeks passed until Emily spoke to the coach and quit the team due to personal, academic stress. Nobody could believe it. And, still, everybody bought it. Everybody let it pass. Everybody acted like they could move on and accept it, except for them, because they knew the reason behind Emily's actions. Except for Spencer, who argued her heart and her brain out to stop it, but couldn't stop it because it was Emily's call, Emily's decision, and because she couldn't, wouldn't do what A said she had to do, firstly because she wasn't sure what that was or even if it'd make sense or work out, secondly because she refused to play A's tricks when it came to Emily, thirdly, or maybe most importantly, because she couldn't, wouldn't quit the thing she loved the most. She was unable to do it. Emily quit - it'd be temporary. They were getting really close to A. The videos kept coming. Caleb was working hard to save Hanna's ass, although he didn't know why Hanna's ass was in danger. And Hanna was out of the game.

Life was _insane_.

Life was insane while Spencer Hastings sniffed the city for clues like a rabid dog that'd been unleashed and sent out on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Born To Die", song by Lana del Rey.


	28. Team Sparia

"But… this can't be right."

Aria's ruling was announced with the characteristic widening of her big, candid emerald eyes.

"It says Smittie's right on the sign."

Perplexed as well, Spencer looked up at the small neat letters that were written up on the newsstand where they'd ended up after following the instructions of the GPS phone. They matched the receipt. The receipt was a clue. Therefore, it _had_ to be _right_ , even if it seemed wrong.

It was right.

It was a clue.

It was right.

Aria turned to look up at the letters, around in every direction of Hyperion street and finally straight into Spencer's deep dark hazel eyes.

"Spencer, are you sure this isn't your sister's?" Aria asked the question while holding the receipt in her hand and waving it in front of her face as a call for attention. "Maybe she just came here to buy the _paper_."

There was an accusatory tone in the question even Aria couldn't completely hide. She had sacrificed a whole afternoon with Ezra for this, and she didn't completely get the amazing relevance of the receipt Spencer had found in her lake house. Everything about that receipt, including the location they were at right now, _said_ this was _only_ a receipt either Melissa Hastings or the Hastings themselves had left in the Hastings lake house. She usually trusted Spencer's instincts blindly and wholeheartedly, especially now, but maybe this was just too much. And she was a little tired to be the Watson to Spencer's Sherlock. The Watson role should have been divided between all of the girls, but the recent changes in the group's life had dropped all the burden of the assistant-detective part on her small, delicately drawn shoulders. And she usually loved to be the companion of Spencer's adventures… but she preferred it in small doses.

Spencer returned the accusatory tone with the sole intensity of her gaze. It was a powerful gaze that had gotten all the more powerful during the last weeks' events, at the same rate her mania and the lack of sleep took complete charge of her detective soul.

"She lives _ten_ blocks away, Aria. It doesn't make _any_ sense", she declared, totally convinced. "Besides, it matches one of the pictures Caleb found in the phone, so I think it's _screaming_ A pretty loudly to _us_ and we just have to _listen_."

Exhaustion did that to Spencer.

 _That_ was when she started to stress every word she said, like it was important to underline _absolutely everything_ so she was perfectly understood by those who were at her disposal.

After nearly searching all of Rosewood and its immediacies for leads and clues, restlessly working with Caleb, Emily and Aria while she first tried to keep Hanna entertained and then appeased once the blonde discovered the secret plan to ice her out and declared eternal hatred on them for their betrayal, but obviously not on her boyfriend, Spencer had accidentally run into a mysterious receipt in her own lake house. It hadn't been entirely an accident because she had actually _gone_ there also in search of clues, after discovering one of the pictures in A's phone had been taken there, right in the attic. One thing had led to another, logically. At first, when she'd found the receipt, she had thought it'd been left there by her parents or by Melissa, who had been living in Philly for months. But then something had rung a bell and she'd checked each and every one of the pictures Caleb had rescued. A had been in her lake house. Not once but several times. Maybe even close to the dates she'd been there with Emily, or Hanna had been there with Caleb, all of them enjoying _life_ … meaning love and sex. Yes, it was ironic. It was hideous and tragic too: the only place where they thought they'd be safe, they'd be apart from everything that ever hurt them, was just _another_ place A had found to play games on them, could've even been A's lair, for all they knew; and it was a place owned by the Hastings. It was a funny, funny life - funny as in a Greek tragedy. Not that those tragedies where people slept with their mothers and creepy stuff like that happened were actually funny at all, but the sense of irony was there, dark and humid and irreversible like a guffaw after a silly little joke. Whatever the case, whatever the joke, the receipt was a clue: that was why she'd recruited Aria to come with her to Philadelphia. That was why they were now standing in front of a kiosk full of newspapers, right in the middle of one of the busiest streets of the city, on an ordinary school day when they had millions of homework to do and Aria had millions of kisses to share with her illegal boyfriend.

Aria snorted so very slightly, too aware of her helpful role as Watson to really protest.

"Okay", she surrendered, sheepishly, "so where do you wanna go now?"

"Doesn't it say anything else?", Spencer curtly asked, instructing Aria to re-read the receipt she'd herself already scanned a trizillion times. "Nothing about what A might've been after?"

"Papers? Magazines?", Aria half affirmed and half asked, suppressing the need to roll her eyes. "Cream for stretch marks?"

Death glare.

Spencer wasn't getting true irony and, most especially, _defeat_ very well lately.

"Maybe it's a set-up."

This was as close as Spencer would ever get to admitting the receipt might mean _nothing_ at all.

"I don't know", Aria carefully chose to let out, "maybe there's something else around."

She looked around as if to demonstrate there _might_ be something else besides the _obvious_ fact that Melissa lived not so far away from the newsstand.

Spencer looked around too, both encouraged and enraged over the possibility.

"We should walk the entire street", she decided, "and check the whole neighbourhood."

This time Aria couldn't totally suppress the eye-roll, because an eye-roll would always be better than a howl of desperation or a murder attempt on one of her best friends.

The eye-roll didn't go unnoticed, though.

Nothing went unnoticed to Spencer these days.

"Ar", Spencer roared in an amazingly low, menacing tone, "you can go _home_ if you want to, I can do it myself."

The sound of the word _home_ seemed to imply _home_ was _hell_ and _jail_ , where Aria belonged for seducing a former high-school teacher. But Spencer just implied it, not really said it. She would never say it, because they were not only linked by all their secrets and detective activities, they also shared a bond of love and respect and a mutual, yet private dedication to an undying, almost artistic, concept of romanticism. Aria had learned this over the last months, even if Emily was no illegal love for Spencer. Emily just seemed to be the reason why Spencer was both able to calm down and to spin like one of those toys that were running out of batteries; or one of those hologram-robots that suddenly started speaking really fast before completely vanishing into the air because they weren't real or belonged to an alternate universe. Spencer had confessed it to her once… that Emily was the only person who could always _really_ calm her down. But at that time they didn't know she was also the person who could drive her crazier than she already was. It reminded Aria a lot of how she felt sometimes in her own love affair… like it was the only thing that could tie her to the ground, simultaneously destroying her life and all of her human bonds with mother earth… or with father earth… although she doubted Emily and Spencer would accept the comparison, really. Emily would probably widen her eyes in honest shock and Spencer would make a long argument about how _their_ love was solid and legit as the light of day and the Bill of Rights and the human genome, instead of a shady, turbulent affair.

"No, I don't wanna go home", she finally denied, "I said we'd come here to sort this out… and we're here."

Besides, home was a complicated place. And Spencer needed her.

She shot her a grateful look.

"So… let's just keep walking around", Spencer offered, a little less curtly, "and maybe we'll see something, cause there _has_ to be something to see."

They aimlessly took some steps, passing by the kiosk with the sign Spencer had identified.

This would take _hours_.

But Spencer did need her now. Although she probably needed to rest and _talk_ more than to endlessly walk around the streets of Philadelphia in search of nobody-knew-exactly-what. Things were so hard for all of them back in Rosewood. It wasn't only that Hanna was mad, especially at Spencer. It was also Emily. Ever since she'd quit the team two weeks ago she'd been out of sight, mainly because she'd had to dedicate all of the time to convince her parents, Ms. Marin and the whole school that the reason to quit what had been both her one true dream and her ticket to a scholarship was that she actually wanted to excel in academics, in all (doubtful) Hastings fashion. People seemed to believe she'd gone out of her mind, but they were giving her the chance to prove herself, mostly because her parents had decided they wouldn't change her town of residency when she'd already started senior year… unless something worse happened. Therefore, nothing worse should happen, and the library had become Emily's new solitary home.

It was becoming her hideout too, in so many ways.

They were ways Spencer seemed to take badly, although she didn't talk about it. Emily didn't talk about it either, whenever she did show up. So basically nobody talked about it, although Aria was convinced both of them needed to talk about it and, based on her knowledge, and by all clear evidence in sight, Spencer did need to talk about it even more than Emily, simply because she'd taken all the responsibility for the A-hunt. Maybe they _were_ talking about it when they saw each other in private, though. But that probably wasn't enough, and at least Spencer was more reachable in all of her Sherlock-madness. Now that Hanna was in hatred-mode, she guessed she'd have to try reaching out for Emily at some point. But that was damn difficult. With all of her sweetness, or precisely due to it, Emily was a master at closing off oyster-like. You really had to develop your best oyster-diving techniques and psychological devices to trap her, open her up, steal the pearl and force her to have a real conversation. It wasn't always that hard, but it required a lot of time and effort and agility, qualities that normally only Hanna had learned to master. Now it had to be her, Aria guessed, because Hanna was pissed at Emily too – again.

Trying to keep up with Spencer's pace as they steadily walked down Hyperion street, inspecting every meaningless store and every irrelevant apartment building, Aria stole some glances at the leading figure of the group. Easy things should be solved first, and Spencer's shell, intelligent and sarcastic as it always was in self-defence, was always easier to break. If confronted with a little pressure by someone she trusted, she would crack open in a heartbeat.

Aria knew how to do it.

"There's a café over there", Aria blurted out while semi-trotting, "if you want to stop for coffee."

Spencer would always fall into that trap.

"Later", Spencer dismissed though, her hologram-battery still running, "we _really_ need to keep our eyes open."

"Which is why coffee will help", Aria agreed pointedly, "at least me, cause I'll probably need rehab after trying to follow you running all thru the city."

"Are you into drugs now?"

"And are you into marathons?"

"We're not running."

"I am."

Spencer slowed down to inspect her. Yes, Aria was running. The obvious difference in height meant a short person such as Aria would have to run to follow a tall person such as Spencer around. Besides, Aria was covered in a synthetic-fur scarf and a synthetic-fur hat which were probably asphyxiating her right now. She normally approved of Aria's edgy style, but this was too much… Philadelphia in late October was _not_ Siberia.

"Maybe you should take the Siberian fur off", Spencer smirked, not really able to stop herself, "before they take you to the Philadelphia zoo and leave you there."

"It's synthetic."

"You should know what they do to those animals over there."

In Siberia.

Or in the Philadelphia Zoo, although it'd been ages since she'd been there.

"It is synthetic, Spence."

"One of these days you're gonna run into some PETA naked model who's gonna burn all of your clothes."

Aria shot her a dirty look.

"You'd probably enjoy the naked model more than me."

The dirty look was shot in return with a certain degree of surprise and amusement. Spencer would have expected this kind of counter-attack from Hanna, but not exactly from Aria.

"It could be a _male_ model, you know. They also exist and they do get naked."

"I thought you were bi… so you'd still like it better."

There was nothing Spencer loved more, besides Emily and getting straight As, than this kind of verbal battles. And that was why she smirked and her eyes brightened up in a strange way before darkening again.

"Right", she answered sharply, "I tend to forget you _only_ wanna see _one_ person naked. _Mr. Ezra Fitz_. _The Fitz-man_. _Ezzzz-rrrraaaaah_." She used her huskier voice to say the name, but something in her eyes was burning and Aria wasn't sure why. "But I guess the rest of us are just _dying_ to see the whole human population stripping for us."

That was a little too sharp for Aria's taste, but her objective was one and only one: to lure Spencer into the café.

"I wasn't talking about the human population", Aria argued, "and anyway you already see your naked model every day."

Spencer blinked, as if she were suddenly considering it over her own dark, sharp cloud, and Aria immediately regretted her words because she'd probably touched a nerve she didn't want to exactly touch before they could reach the café.

But she did see Emily naked all the time, right?

As opposed to Aria herself, who barely got to see Ezra without a shirt on.

"I don't see her naked _every day_ ", Spencer muttered, somehow responding Aria's internal question, and then she lowered her eyes before shooting another direct, challenging look, "but anyway I won't be the one who'll end up covered in some endangered species' blood."

"That's gross, Spence", Aria grimaced, "but it's also _false_ , cause this is synthetic and PETA models _love_ synthetic."

Aria was starting to feel pity for Emily. No wonder she sought refuge in the library lately. Hologram-Spencer was certainly difficult to handle.

"I guess we can say you're safe then", Spencer prepared to shoot the last bullet, "unless you _do_ run into some stupid zoo keepers."

She had won.

But Aria still had another idea in mind.

"Coffee, Spence."

That was all her response. She wasn't going to follow the fur route. It _was_ synthetic. She loved animals. She loved seals. She loved Siberian seals… or whatever they were.

Spencer watched her, thoughtful for a moment.

"All right", she finally gave in, "but we'll just grab the coffee to go."

Winning was always a relative concept, and Aria knew that, right now, she had won. The moment they entered the café, the distinct aroma of the steaming black petroleum filling their lungs with all of its addictive power, the plan started to work: like a hunter following a trail, like a CIA agent following a secretly coded message, like a drug-addict who'd just seen a white-powder bag flash into her eyes, Spencer followed the smoking smell of coffee, grabbed her cup like a well-deserved trophy and sat down on a table waiting for Aria to come sit with her own double-caramel fake-espresso. They both loved coffee, but Aria was into caramel and Spencer was into pure caffeine.

White powder talk, black petroleum filler, it didn't matter.

Dressed in her synthetic-fur detective uniform, Aria Watson Montgomery sat in front of Spencer Holmes Hastings to discuss something that wouldn't be A, A's phone, A's videos, A's pictures or A's receipt. It was difficult, though, because the first thing Spencer mentioned as soon as Aria sat on her seat was A's receipt, A's visits to her lake house, A's new messages and new phones, Ian's death at the hands of one of his A accomplices, Garret's position in the police, Jenna's blindness which apparently incapacitated her to chase or be chased by Emily in the forest, and her own conviction that Jason DiLaurentis still had something to do with the whole thing. Aria hardly managed to say a word here and there, barely trying to defend Jason because there was really no proof of him being involved in any of the videos, and coffee just seemed to excite Sherlock more than to placate her, as she should have imagined anyway, because coffee was a stimulant and not a narcotic. But she wouldn't give up easily. She would make Spencer stop the madness, breathe and _talk_.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

Spencer asked the question while sipping her black coffee.

"About what?"

"About the fact Ian couldn't leave the receipt in my lake house because he was _already_ dead."

"So it was your sister", Aria shrugged, "big deal."

" _Big_ deal, Aria. It's not my sister."

"I'm not saying she's A. I'm just saying the receipt is hers."

"It doesn't make sense. She reads the paper in her iPhone!"

"Maybe she stopped just _once_ to buy a paper the old-fashioned way."

"What's the point in that?", Spencer asked, wrinkling her nose, "we're Hastings, we don't waste our time, we don't look back."

"You don't know Melissa that well, Spencer."

"Meaning what? She's my sister."

"Meaning she's… I don't know, okay? It's her receipt."

"It's not."

Maybe Melissa was part of the A conspiracy, now that Aria thought about it. Why not? If it was her receipt, and there were pictures that had been taken in the Hastings lake house, it could all be Melissa's doing. She'd been Ian's fiancé and had protected him against everything, including Spencer. And she had reasons to hate Alison, like… almost everybody in Rosewood, apparently. So maybe Melissa had something to do with it. Or maybe not. They only had proof of Ian, Garret and Jenna in Alison's room.

"Melissa's not A, Aria", Spencer asserted, reading Aria's mind, "she was pregnant for all of those months."

"Being pregnant doesn't keep you from texting people."

Death glare.

"It does keep you from trying to _murder_ them."

"I'm not saying she's A. We don't have any proof", Aria backed down. "Same with Jason."

Eye-roll.

For some reason, Aria didn't like Spencer's constant attempts at blaming Jason without any kind of evidence except the fact that he used to be drunk a lot and that he took a few weird pictures of her. Anyway, this wasn't where Aria wanted to direct the conversation.

"Jason was there, I'm sure he's gonna appear in the videos, Aria", Spencer insisted, "I mean, it was _his_ house too. It just kills me to _wait_ for _so long_."

Aria nodded, waiting for her chance while Spencer kept complaining about how long it took for Caleb to des-encrypt the rescued files.

The chance came in another occasion when Spencer thoughtfully sipped her coffee.

"So… how's Emily holding up?", Aria asked innocently, but in a direct manner Spencer would appreciate, "you know, with everything."

The question seemed to startle Spencer for a second, the second it took to re-structure her whole mind-schemes.

"Well, you should know, right?" There was an acidic, bitter taste to the words that matched the darkening of her powerful gaze. "You've probably seen her around school during the last weeks… and you're her friend, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am", Aria cautiously replied, "and that's why I'm asking."

"She doesn't talk to you, huh?"

Spencer adorned the statement with her classic lop-sided smile, but there was something sad about it, not exactly sardonic as it was intended.

"She doesn't say much when I ask her. You know how she is."

If there was someone who knew how Emily was, it was Spencer.

"It's worse than that", Spencer agreed, getting suddenly talkative, "she smiles, she talks about stuff… it's like everything's fine."

"But it's not", Aria tentatively said, "right?"

Spencer shrugged her shoulders, looking more tired by the second.

"You tell _me_." She tried to smile unsuccessfully. "I don't really know what to do."

Here it was.

Spencer Hastings was being decoded and cracked open over a coffee cup, exactly like Aria had expected.

"Have you tried talking to her about it?"

"About what?"

"About how you feel."

Spencer shot her a weird look.

"And how do I feel?"

"I don't know, you tell _me_ ", Aria fired back, "bad? Stressed? Y _ou don't know what to do_?"

Spencer smiled, and this time it came out sardonic, but it was still sad.

"She feels _worse_ than me, Ar", she asserted, and then looked over Aria's shoulder through the crystal windowpane that opened their sight to the street, "and it's not like I see much of her anyway, cause she spends all the time pretending to study so she can convince everyone on earth she made the right decision."

"Even you?"

The question surprised Spencer again.

"Especially me", she accepted, "for some reason."

Aria smiled back. "Yeah, I wonder why."

The comment gained her a resentful look.

"She's got to go back to the team, and you know it", Spencer heatedly stated, "and _everybody_ knows, even Hanna knows when she bothers to speak to her."

Yes, Hanna knew that too.

"You're not gonna convince her by insisting on it, Spencer."

"I'm _not_ insisting on it", Spencer defended herself, "I hardly open my mouth, but it doesn't matter what I say, it's always the same result."

"Why?"

Spencer's gaze was now intense, yet it was also timid in an unusual way.

"I'm not gonna talk to you about her."

She looked down and then away again, trying to hide from Aria's psychologically mature eyes.

"Why not?", Aria softly asked. "We're not saying anything bad."

"She's your friend. You should talk to her yourself."

"And I'll try _again_ , Spencer, but right now I'm talking to _you_ ", Aria argued, making her most vigorous point to encourage Spencer. As she got further and further with her, she realized Spencer desperately needed to confide her non-A feelings to someone. "And anyway we're not saying anything bad about her, and I know you… I'm just trying to help."

Spencer exhaled a long breath of air, and her eyes finally shone with hidden, secret tears.

"I hate feeling like this."

"You probably _really_ need to sleep, Spence."

She smiled weakly.

"I can't sleep much, I really need to solve everything, Ar. It's not like we have lots of time."

"We're doing the best we can."

That sounded so much like Emily it made both of them bat their lashes in harmonic surprise, aware of the everlasting presence of their friend in the conversation.

"Well, the best is not enough this time", Spencer deadpanned, "I swear… if Jenna ever gets her sight back I'm gonna blind the bitch again, and this time it _will_ be on purpose."

A again.

It was going to require a lot of skill on Aria's part to redirect the conversation topic, because Spencer seemed to be expressing all her frustration and fears through the A-investigation.

"I don't think that's really gonna help Em… or you, or us."

"It might help _me_."

"What's exactly the problem that's driving you so mad?"

Spencer grew impatient, her features twitching a little on her forehead and the corners of her mouth.

"The problem is we have to get A, Aria", she exclaimed nervously, " _I_ have to get the freaking HGH report so Em can go back to the team." She took the cup of coffee in her hand as if to strengthen herself. "But I can't mention the team to her or I'll die an awful death because I'm being such a bad girlfriend."

Aria raised her thick brows at the dramatic exclamation.

"Is it that bad? Cause I'm sure it's not _that_ bad."

"It's like it's my fault, when it was _me_ who _tried_ everything to get her to stop it."

Aria was touching plenty of nerves here, even getting close to cutting to the bone.

"Maybe that's why."

Spencer furrowed her brows in offended confusion.

"So what should I do? I told her it'd be a mistake."

"And do you say that to her?"

Another resentful look.

Close to the bone.

"No, of course not."

Aria seemed to find those words unbelievable. She knew how insistent Spencer could get when she thought she was right about an important matter.

"You sure about that?"

"Are you trying to be the new Dr. Sullivan?", Spencer reacted in sarcastic fashion. "Cause I should warn you, some people think I actually killed her."

"But I know you didn't."

"I'm serious, Ar."

"Serious about what?"

They stared at each other, and suddenly Spencer's eyes filled with tears again. She really needed to talk or she was going to explode at some point.

"I don't say _anything_ , Aria", she explained, "maybe just a couple things, not really much, cause whenever I happen to mention it she looks at me like she's a lost puppy and I'm kicking her out of my house."

Lost-puppy, kicked-out-of-Spencer's-house-puppy Emily was really a bad image, yes.

"She feels bad too, Spencer", Aria argued, "but that doesn't mean she blames you. It totally sucks for her to be like that when you're out chasing A on your own. She probably hates it."

A little smile twitched one of the corners of Spencer's mouth now.

"She does hate it", Spencer nodded. "Every time I tell her I'm taking you somewhere she gives me this look… like I'm cheating on her or something."

Aria couldn't help but smile.

"She's jealous?"

"That's when she looks up from her books and actually notices _me_ standing there, you know, _talking_."

Aria laughed, even though Spencer was being bitter again.

"That's funny."

"It's not."

But Spencer smiled too, and this time it was wider.

"She's worried about you."

Spencer sighed, sort of nodding her head in approval.

"I'm worried about her too", she continued, "and I have _more_ reasons. You know who called me to ask me about why she'd _actually_  quit? _Her mother_. I almost died that day." Her whole body seemed to tremble at the remembrance of Pam Fields' call. "And I felt like she was calling me out on it, but I had to lie to her about the _reasons_ and then I had to promise her I'd convince Emily to go back to the team. Can you believe it?"

Pam Fields.

The terrifying mother.

Although Aria had always thought she was sweet, except when she looked weird at her pink hair.

"Yeah, that must've been scary."

"It was _the worst thing ever_ ", Spencer said, "like, I was totally shitting my pants. _Me_ , Aria. And I promised her I'd get Em back on the team when I can't even _say_ the word _team_ without getting this feeling she's gonna strangle me."

Was Emily a lost puppy or a strangling puppy? Because, somehow, Aria wasn't totally getting Spencer's imagery about Emily so well.

"I'm sure it's not that bad, Spencer."

"Well, maybe you should _talk_ to her about it and see how it goes for you", Spencer bitterly answered, "or maybe you should _date_ her. It'd probably save us all a lot of trouble."

There was definitely a very painful nerve and it was running so _deeply_ into the bone.

"You'd pass her on to me?", Aria mocked, trying to lighten Spencer's mood up. "Watch out, I might accept the deal."

"And stop seeing _Ezzzz-rrrrraaaaah_ without clothes?"

Aria laughed. It wasn't as if that actually happened a lot, unfortunately.

"You never know", she continued the joke, "and Em's got a pretty nice body."

A blush crept to Spencer's neck and cheeks.

Aria had touched another nerve.

"Well, you should definitely try", Spencer replied, cocking her left brow and trying to stop her blush from expanding, "you might have a chance, you know, since you're another one of her best friends."

Acid, nerve and bone: Aria felt like a surgeon.

"I've seen how she looks at you, Spencer."

"And how is that?"

"In a way she doesn't look at anybody else _at all_."

"You mean when you see us together", Spencer still tried to joke away the blush, "which's been like… maybe three times in the last couple weeks."

Aria rolled her eyes at Spencer's exaggeration.

"It doesn't matter how many times… she lights up. And it's not only that… it's worse. It's like Hanna says… it's totally dirty. But I'm not Hanna, so I won't really get into that."

The blush increased.

But then Spencer's eyes projected the darkened glow again.

Man, this was definitely a touchy, touchy nerve close to a big, big bone. Aria remembered the previous joke about naked models and the strange way Spencer had reacted to the words. She _was_ cutting a bone and, since she was the dog this time, or the surgeon, she had to bite it. She felt herself blowing a whistle inside her head to try to call herself up and get into it. It wasn't really her favorite topic. She wished Hanna was here with her dirty, pornographic wisdom.

"Spence, you can talk to me about it, whatever it is."

Spencer averted her eyes shyly. Obviously this wasn't something she was going to enjoy discussing either, but it was somehow hurting her, so it was better to confront the topic, embarrassing as it may be for both of them.

"I'm not talking about _that_. And you're not Hanna."

"So you'd talk to Hanna?"

"I don't see how, since she seems to hate my guts."

Yes, that was something they had to discuss too… later.

But this _bone_ … man, did everything have to have second meanings? Anyway, this _bone_ Aria couldn't let go. She sipped a little bit of her caramel coffee, swallowed slowly to let the sweet flavor sink into her throat, breathed deeply and whistled herself in her head once more before exhaling.

"So", she started, "you two aren't… you know, you're not having sex as much as you used to?"

That could explain why Spencer was going nuts, after all.

"Aria, I'm not going there", Spencer warned, a little shocked at Aria's unusual straightforwardness, "cause it's none of your business."

"I know that, for god's sake", Aria replied, "you think I actually wanna know?"

"Well, it's you who's asking."

"I don't wanna know", Aria repeated defensively, "but I have to ask cause you're constantly blushing and being bitter about it, so there's something there that's obviously worrying you."

"It's weird to even ask!"

Yes, it was.

"It _is_ weird, fine", Aria conceded, lowering her voice in the middle of the café, "for me too."

"I'm not gonna talk to you about sex with Emily."

Aria raised her brows in clear mockery.

"Well, thank you for _that_ , cause I _really_ don't wanna know any _detail_ ", she joked, "although I've always wanted to know the difference between, you know, lesbian sex and making out."

Spencer went completely red now. Tomato red. Dark-red-paint red.

"You _are_ pretending to be _Hanna_."

"I'm not", Aria denied, "I'm just trying to make you talk about what's worrying you."

"You know lesbians don't have sex, right?", Spencer acidly said, "we just fall in love and hold hands and look at the sky while the birds sing and the raindrops fall."

"Birds don't sing while the rain's falling, Spencer", Aria replied, "but thanks for the info."

Spencer let out a snort.

"Why do you wanna know?"

"To help you", Aria whispered, "cause you're obviously having some kind of trouble with it."

"What makes you think that?"

Now they were both whispering, in fear of being heard around the café. Funny as it was, they didn't do it when they talked about A, but they were doing it now. Apparently, having trouble with (lesbian) sex was more embarrassing than being stalked by a psycho-killer.

"I mean, it was so obvious when you guys took the big leap you could almost trip over it and fall into your…" Aria stopped to think of a good metaphor, but the ones she came up with were too Hanna-related. "Naked bodies." She decided to go for the naked-body image they'd already used before. "And now you're obviously feeling bad about something related to… you know, _that_. And you're whining about Emily not paying attention, so I figured…"

Spencer suddenly burst out in (tomato red) laughter.

"So did you enjoy falling into our _naked bodies_?"

Aria shot a steely look.

"Only into Emily's."

"Go to hell."

Aria smiled widely. "I'm glad you're still the same territorial person."

Spencer leaned back on her seat, a little more relaxed now.

"You know", she confessed, "it was kind of hard to figure out lesbian sex at the beginning."

"It was?"

Spencer looked over her shoulder to the street again. A was calling her.

"Only for a while", Spencer clarified, "now everything's pretty clear."

"Good for you."

Spencer offered a wise, light smirk. "Yeah. Pretty good."

"But that doesn't answer my question."

Spencer leaned forward again, a scowl on her face because she hated to be pressured.

"I think it pretty much answers _a lot_ of it."

"So if you're having great sex all the time", Aria shot back, "why're you so bitter about all of this?"

"I'm not bitter", Spencer defended herself, "of course we're not having as much sex as we used to… We hardly see each other, we're both too stressed all the time."

Aria decided to back down, her back touching the back of the seat as she inspected Spencer.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

No, that wasn't it. Aria could sense it.

"You should talk to her about it", Aria advised, her eyes fixated on Spencer, "you know."

"Yeah, Aria, I know." Spencer was returning to her sarcastic, sulky tone. "Because that's our worst problem, right now. Sex."

"I'm not saying it is", Aria said, "but there's something bugging you about it."

"I know you all think I'm obsessed with sex, but I can perfectly survive without it while we solve everything else, okay?"

"Without it?"

Spencer rolled her eyes, but then returned Aria's inquisitive gaze. Did she always slip important information when Aria decided to question her about Emily? It didn't happen very often, because Aria was the sort of free-spirited friend who left you alone and didn't call you up on anything. But sometimes, only sometimes, she decided there was a subject she had to stick her nose into, and in that territory Aria somehow mastered so well – the territory of asking the right questions and picking up on the right clues – Spencer always, always slipped and fell over some word. Which was funny, because she was supposed to be the detective and the one who was good with words. Although Aria was good too. A poet of all sorts. A rigorous psychologist. The Master of Feelings and The Voice of Wisdom.

Or maybe it had to do with Emily.

When she spoke about Emily, Spencer slipped and tripped over too many _naked bodies_ and meaningful words.

"It's not the best moment", she confessed, finally giving up, "we're both feeling bad and tired, and I can't really ask for sex when we have important things to solve."

"You already said that."

"So… you get it."

Now it was Aria who leaned forward decidedly.

"No, Spencer, what I get is you're gonna _explode_ if you don't talk to Emily about your feelings. And your sex-feelings are included in the talking package."

"I can't come across as a creep now, Aria!", Spencer protested, "I'm trying to help all of us here!"

"You're not a creep, Spencer", Aria replied, a little exasperated at her friend's resistance, "I mean… just talk to her. It _is_ Emily, Spencer. She's totally in love with you and probably wants it to happen as much as you do."

"Right, I guess that's why she hardly looks at me anymore."

The bone was nerve-wracking for Aria - Spencer was.

"She _looks_ at you, Spencer."

The darkened glow reappeared as Spencer directed her gaze to the window once more.

"You're not gonna escape from this conversation until we're done", Aria warned, "because you do need to sleep and to get laid or you're gonna go nuts, Spencer."

"Aria!"

" _Fine_ , sorry", Aria apologized, "shouldn't talk about you and Em like that. But you're just being stubborn right now."

"We don't have time to _talk_ about _feelings_ , Aria."

"Well, I guess you're gonna have to find it if you don't want this to get worse", Aria advised again, "and it's gonna get worse, Spencer, trust me, because _you just know_ you're getting mad. You know how things work. You know you _are_ going to _explode_ if you don't find a way to talk about it."

"I am  _not_ getting mad", Spencer replied, more calmly now, "I swear."

"Fine", Aria answered, calmly too, "I'm glad."

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment when everything about their conversation seemed to fall into place.

Spencer breathed deeply before deciding to speak again.

"I know she looks at me like that", she finally conceded, her voice low and secretive, honest and true, "I can feel it."

Aria allowed her eyes to send a flow of warmth away, and took Spencer's hand in hers. It'd been a long way until this point. Now Spencer just needed to come to terms with whatever was troubling her. But Spencer didn't say anything else. She just fell silent, like there was nothing to say but that blunt admission that there was nothing wrong and that, beyond all of her sarcastic, bitter complaints, the reason she was feeling so bad was still somehow unknown to her, no matter how much they talked about it.

"So?"

Aria tried to help her get it out this way.

"We don't see a lot of each other. She's always studying and I'm always… you know."

Aria nodded: she knew.

"So it's just not happening, okay? I guess it's normal. I have to be patient."

Spencer shrugged, displaying her helplessness and all her difficulty to be a patient person.

The truth was that, before Emily had quit the team, they'd been using every chance. Even after Emily got A's phone and they fought and then sort of worked it out, they still took advantage of _every_ chance. Because nothing could stop them. Because, apparently, they were unstoppable. Because love and sex were a kind of energy that no one could really control, not even them; least of all A. She tried to be disciplined and orderly about it; she tried to control it, sort of managed schedules and times so she wouldn't lose her mind, so she could still direct the A operation and keep focused. But she knew… it was unstoppable. And, one day, right after Emily quit the team, which was exactly what they were trying to avoid at all costs, it stopped. At least that part stopped. The _sex_ stopped. Completely. Absolutely. Radically. And it was Emily who stopped it, not because she said anything or tried to actually _really_ stop it in explicit terms, but because it became complicated and uneasy and there was always something else to do or someone else to discuss. So much for being the perfectly fuckable Spencer Hastings every day without even needing to try. So much for sex-appeal and raspy voices and lower lips and long legs. It just stopped. Yes, she understood the situation had changed, circumstances made it harder, more complicated, they were feeling overwhelmed. And Emily, particularly Emily, was feeling like crap, even if she didn't want to admit it; and Spencer knew she herself was very difficult to handle when she was overstressed. But they weren't _even_ kissing that much. And a kiss _wasn't_ sex, was it? They planted just a kiss here and there, from time to time, like they were ashes of a burned out fire, like they couldn't even heat it up in fear of what would happen next. But what was the fear? Fear of what? She still felt the _damn_ longing, dirty gazes Aria was talking about. That was all there was now: longing, porny gazes. Nothing ever happened after that. Nothing really followed. And they _had_ made out _once_ , probably because Emily couldn't really help it either, couldn't manage to control it that well after all, exactly like she'd said she wouldn't be able to do it that dawn while they talked about quitting this or quitting that in Spencer's car. _Once_. After that, it absolutely stopped. Because there was an imaginary rule Emily had enacted that suddenly eliminated sex out of the equation. Was it Emily, in her aspiration to rule over the relationship? Or maybe it was her when she tried to control everything they were doing so she wouldn't be distracted from the A-hunt? Maybe Emily sensed that. Or maybe it was just difficult. She'd tried a couple of times… but she hated to feel like a needy creep when she'd been feeling like a goddamn Sex Symbol all the freaking time, even when she was wearing the orange suit, even when Emily got mad at her after Wren and sort of punished her for it. She hated that. And they would work it out somehow. It'd only been two weeks since the sexual abstinence started, and it was just sex anyway. It was just sex. There were more important things: catching A, getting Emily back into the team, making it through senior year alive… and not only alive... They had to get what they deserved. The four of them.

The love remained.

The sex remained too, hidden in those longing glances they were awkwardly dedicating each other, and would be somehow rescued like one of those encrypted files Caleb managed to recover from all kinds of machines. At some point, when they started feeling better, they would recover the heat too. But she couldn't explain all of that to Aria. Or to anybody. She wasn't even sure she could explain it to Emily without getting into a fight or saying stupid things she would regret later; or, worse, without hearing things she was too afraid to hear. She just wasn't sure she could talk about any of it. Not yet, not while they were getting so close to A. They were getting so close. A was first. Sex came at the end of their list.

They had to leave to keep searching the neighbourhood.

She moved, feet getting antsy and intrepid again, but Aria stopped her with her hand.

"Listen", Aria spoke softly now, "I'm just saying it'd be good to talk to Em about how you feel… about all of it, not the sex only. It'll help both of you."

Spencer nodded, in control again. "We'll be fine."

Aria sighed, but didn't let go of Spencer's hand. Spencer and Emily could be so stubborn sometimes. Between Emily's oyster moments and Spencer's proud reactions, they were probably suffering over the other's well-being and safety without even sitting to talk about the other's well-being and safety at all. At least that was something she and Ezra were good at: talking. Endless talking. That was what they did best… for now.

She suddenly remembered an important date for these two. For all of them, really.

"Isn't Em's birthday coming in like a week?"

Spencer seemed annoyed about the lack of a resolution to leave, but she shook her head in admittance.

"Week and a half."

"What are you gonna do?"

For the look in Spencer's eyes, she had _again_ touched a nerve.

"I have like one hundred presents for her, but I'm not sure if…" She wasn't sure if they were the _right_ presents at the present moment, but she decided to drop the topic and to be less bitter about everything or Aria would never let her leave. "I have no plan because, you know, _I had a plan,_ but now all plans are hard to sort out."

Aria narrowed her eyes.

"What plan?"

"I talked to Hanna a couple of months ago about a surprise party", Spencer clarified, "but, yeah... Hanna, right now... you can imagine."

Aria nodded, concerned.

Hanna was another nerve they both needed to operate on.

"And the surprise party", Spencer continued, "I'm not so sure it's a good idea either, cause I was gonna invite the team and… yeah... the _team_ , right? You can imagine that one too." She paused, shrugging her shoulders. "Plus I won't throw a party without Hanna."

Aria seemed thoughtful about everything in that particular candid, slightly weird way of hers.

"I think a surprise party's a great idea, Spence", she finally exclaimed, "I mean, she'll love seeing her teammates. It'll be great for her to see they're still there and want her back."

"She knows they want her back."

"Yeah, but this way she'll _see_ they care for her even if she's not in the team."

Spencer scrunched up her nose, doubtful.

"You think?"

"Sure", Aria said, "I mean, we can't throw a party with just _us_ and Caleb."

"Especially now that she's so talkative, right?"

Aria squeezed her hand, the one she hadn't let go of yet. People who heard them talk about lesbian sex earlier probably thought they were a couple.

"Especially now everything's difficult, yeah."

"And you don't think she'll take it badly, like it's another coded message we're sending so she goes back to the team?"

"I think she'll love it, Spencer", Aria explained, "it's Emily, it's not _you_. She doesn't see coded messages everywhere."

Spencer gave a smile. "You obviously don't know how mean she can be."

"No, but I know _you_ can be mean too." She squeezed Spencer's hand again. "But it's a great idea."

"And Hanna? We can't have a party without her. I can't do it."

"I know."

"Has she talked to you lately?"

"If talking means saying _hi_ and _see you later_ and _fine_ and _I'm meeting Mona for lunch, sorry_ , yeah, she has."

"That's more than she's said to _me_."

Aria nodded.

Hanna was angry with everyone, but especially with Spencer. She felt so sorry for Spencer: leading the A-hunt, stressed over Emily's situation, pressured about everything she was always pressured about (studying, exceeding), not having sex and, finally, hated by one of her best friends.

"So let's take it one step at a time", she proposed, "first step, Han; second step, Em's party."

"It's easy for you to say it", Spencer whined again, "you'll just go and talk to her with your big eyes and she'll forgive you. I've tried talking to her _three times_ and she keeps blowing me off, saying she wasn't expecting that kind of backstabbing precisely from me, that I'm worse than A and that she's never gonna forgive me for it."

"She's said the same to all of us."

"But she _hates_ me more."

"We'll talk to her tomorrow. Both of us."

"So your big eyes will do the job?"

"Trust me, if Em's puppy eyes can't do the job and they live together… my big eyes won't do it either."

Yes, that was true. Hanna was _so_ pissed at Emily too. Although Emily was also the one Hanna said more words to and the one who would be forgiven first.

"So how're we gonna do it?", Spencer asked, suddenly letting herself be guided by The Master of Feelings, "I did it for her _too_ , we did, but she keeps saying she would've never done something like that to one of us."

"And it's true, she wouldn't have."

Yes, Hanna was different. She was Loyalty Incarnated, no matter how caustic and tactless she sometimes seemed to act.

"So what do we say? She doesn't listen."

Aria was thinking hard.

Somehow this topic had occupied a lot more of her brain during the last week, and it was definitely easier for her to approach than the sexual thing with Spencer.

She looked directly into Spencer's eyes.

"We're not gonna explain _why_ we did it", Aria thought out loud, "we're just gonna tell her the truth."

"Isn't that what we've already done?"

"No", Aria said, "we've tried to _explain_ , but she doesn't want an explanation. She knows why we did it."

"She just wouldn't have done it _to us_."

"Exactly."

"So we go and say we're sorry."

"We need her."

"We can't do any of this without her."

"We _won't_ do any of it without her."

"Cause it doesn't _make sense_ without her."

"Cause we can't lose _her_ to A."

"Cause we already _lost too much_ to A", Spencer summed up, "but we won't lose _her_."

They looked at each other. All of a sudden, both of them had watery eyes: Aria's emerald was blurry like a discarded paint or a rainy day in the countryside, and Spencer's hazel was glowing with a restricted, encaged sorrow.

"Yeah", Aria said in a nasal voice, " _that_."

"Shit, Aria", Spencer replied, "we really work well together."

"I know. That's why Em's jealous."

"You're little, but you're big."

"And you're smart and you're tall."

They both laughed a little stupidly.

Now people were probably really convinced they were a couple.

"We're fucking Team Sparia."

"You wanna get your sex life back… say that to Em."

"That'll probably kill it even more."

"Why's that?"

"Anyway she won't believe it for a second."

Aria scowled at her. "Hey", she protested, " _why's that_?"

" _Ezzzzz-rrrrraaaaaaah_ ", Spencer summarized, gaining a wide smile from Aria, "and you're her friend, she trusts you. Plus you're as straight as one can get."

"I kinda remember a time when you were as straight as one could get."

"Apparently I wasn't."

"Right. Emily's gay sixth sense, right?"

"Exactly."

They both laughed again.

"Man, we're weird."

"I know, look at all those people looking at us like we're crazy."

"We're crying, laughing and holding hands."

"Now we just need birds and rain and we'll be lesbians!"

"You already are", Aria joked, "or are you more, like,  _Emisexual_?"

Spencer smiled crookedly. "I'm _A_ -sexual right now", she joked back, stressing the A in the word to make the double sense clear.

"Sure, I totally believe that."

"You're the one who wants to go back to Rosewood to get some naked modelling."

Aria winked. "You're right. I hate your crazy _Smittie's_ receipt."

An hour ago the comment would have been responded with a death glare, but Spencer was in the right mood now, so she burst out in a dry laughter.

"I know."

They stayed in silence for a long moment, and Spencer decided to let Aria go. She'd been coming with her to almost every single expedition, and she was probably right about the receipt. And, as usual, she was very helpful when actually needed.

"You should go back to Rosewood."

"No, I'm staying", Aria refused to take the offer, "so we can search the whole city for the secret code of A."

"No, it's okay", Spencer insisted, "I'll take the chance to visit Melissa."

Aria seemed to give it some thought, but finally accepted. They were already picking up their satchel and purse when Spencer had an idea about the party they'd been discussing for Emily.

"Can I ask you another _tiny_ favor like yourself?"

Aria turned around, already on her way to the exit, and raised her brows.

"Sure, what is it?"

"It's about the party", Spencer said, "I'll invite everyone in the team… but could you talk to the psycho?"

Aria didn't understand, and her immense eyes struggled to squint in hesitation and confusion.

"What psycho?"

"Aria", Spencer called out, "I'm not talking about A."

"Oh."

"The psycho."

Aria widened her eyes in final recognition.

"You mean Paige McCullers."

"That's clever of you."

"Why do you still call her a psycho? It's not like she ever did anything else."

"Oh, so she should do it more times to deserve the name?"

"No, of course not", Aria replied, "but she's… Why don't you forgive her already?"

"Because I don't want to", Spencer explained stubbornly, "she scared the shit out of Em, for _no_ reason at all except she apparently wanted to fuck with her… and I mean it in every way. She's a freak, and she's violent, and she still _wants_ her."

"So _that's_ the reason."

"There are a lot of _valid_ reasons."

"So it's easy", Aria exclaimed, "don't invite her."

"No, I have to…", Spencer said, pouting like she was offering herself in sacrifice, "it's not my party, it's Em's, and she's now the team captain. I can't invite the whole team and not invite her… especially because _Emily_ was the one who spoke to the coach on her behalf."

"But I've never talked to her. It's gonna be weird."

"It's a _tiny_ favor."

Aria grunted. "It's gonna be weird. You should be the one to do it."

"She knows I hate her. It's okay."

"She knows?"

"Oh, she _does_. Trust me."

Aria rolled her eyes. Of course Paige McCullers would know Spencer Hastings hated her. It was like a law of nature. Spencer knew how to make her presence felt in a good or a bad way for every organism, human or not, to acknowledge.

"I don't even know why I asked", she admitted. "Okay, I'll do it. But you owe me _so much_."

"It's not a big deal, she means nothing to you."

"You owe me." Aria lifted a warning finger to Spencer's face. "And you'll pay me."

"Do you wanna hold hands now?", Spencer asked, grabbing Aria's finger. "Or is it gonna be in the future?"

"You'll have to get me a date with Em."

"Go to hell."

"Team Emaria… Or is it Team Arily?"

" _Go. To. Hell_."

"It doesn't sound very good, I'll give you that."

She slapped Spencer's ass to make her keep walking, and _now_ all the people in the café confirmed they were either a  couple or two crazy teenagers; most probably both. They finally walked into the street, armed with the receipt (now back in Spencer's hands) and with Aria's collection of synthetic-fur accessories, and hugged in the bus stop that would take Aria to the train station and back to Rosewood. Waiting as Aria sat in the bus as though it'd be a long farewell, Spencer watched her friend's mouth breathing a warm, humid canvas on the window and drawing a heart crossed with a set of arrows sticking into it with violent passion, the words Team Sparia and Team Arily written in it with a big question mark. Spencer laughed out wildly, shaking her head as she silently spelled the name _Ezra_ , and then watched the bus go with Aria in it. It was all right. She was actually in the mood to continue the exploration of the city on her own, and she was feeling better now, especially about Hanna. The thing with Emily… it was different, it'd require different skills, a different sort of patience. No matter how much Aria dominated the Art of Feelings, she'd been wrong about something: she wasn't getting mad at Emily. She just couldn't discuss _feelings_ with Emily now, because all feelings drove them in one single direction: A. A was in the middle and she had to push him - her, them, it - out of their relationship. So there was only one thing Spencer could do now: _move_. Explore, question, think, look around, walk, even run if there was a need for it, just like Emily had run that night. But she would never stop moving ahead. She would never look back, not even if she was far away from home, not even if she didn't _see_ what was in front of her. With time and effort, she would _see_ it and she would _blow_ the final hit to A's head, the one that would knock him - her, them, it - down.

Ready for the fight, Spencer was waiting for the deadly chance.

She had to build herself in courage and iron.

Ironically standing at a traffic light, waiting for the human figure to blink in green again so she could cross Hyperion street in order to explore narrower, more secretive places in the neighbourhood, a light illuminated her head. It wasn't Emily's light. No, that light was kind of dim right now, although Spencer did keep it so closely, so guarded in her heart… and basically everywhere in her body, sometimes to her dismay and (bitter) desperation.

It was Hanna's.

Hanna had been taking care of _her_ , not only of Emily, in that special joking-but-deadly-serious way of hers. Hanna and Spencer had an alliance nobody knew about. That was why Hanna hated what Spencer had done. Hanna would have _never_ done that to _her_. Not even for Caleb. But Spencer was Spencer; and Hanna was Hanna. Spencer made the ugly decisions. Spencer dictated the moves for every one to follow, right? Sure, Emily and Aria agreed to leave Hanna out of their investigation after Hanna destroyed the flash drive with part of the evidence Caleb had gathered, and then they had the nicety of ignoring Hanna's calls so they wouldn't have to directly confront their act of betrayal, whereas Spencer picked up the phone, answered the calls, met Hanna for a movie, lied to her in her face while keeping her in the blind, while ruthlessly pushing her out of the game. And here Hanna had thought she was protecting her boyfriend… all the time while her best friends, Spencer leading the way, Spencer dictating the rules, were basically _using_ him (with his consent) to win the war. Aria and Emily had big, puppy eyes; walk-away eyes, look-away eyes, protective eyes. But Spencer had another type of eyes. They were knock-down eyes. And that was why Hanna was so mad. That was what Hanna couldn't forgive. They were similar… they would always take care of each other, with the difference Spencer didn't think twice to strike a blow while Hanna simply didn't think at all… she just didn't strike a blow when striking it meant hurting a friend.

Hanna's light.

It blinded her in recognition.

Her knock-down eyes welled up, her iron heart swelling in tears. She needed to say she was sorry, she was so sorry.

Preferably tonight.

Spencer crossed the street while texting Aria, asking for her permission to have the talk with Hanna tonight – and alone. Aria texted back her okay (it was Aria, queen of independence and free-spirit) and offered to help if her presence was needed. With Aria's okay in mind, Spencer turned in a corner where an optician's store offered fashionable glasses maybe Emily would appreciate at some point, since she'd admitted once that she found her old dorky glasses kind of appealing in a weird way. No, sex - go away, step away. You don't belong here _now_. You're dead… or in purgatory. Maybe later… surely in some time. When feelings were important again, when A was caught, when the receipt in her hands _spoke -_ sex would find a way to make its comeback _._

Right there, she saw it - a stroke of luck - but luck didn't exist as such - a product of opportunity, effort and conviction.

A crosswalk.

A Labrador dog bridled in a brown leather jacket to help a serious-looking girl - nothing in her eyes.

Nothing in her eyes.

Blind.

Yes, the girl was blind.

The receipt was a clue.

It was right.

It was about Jenna.

It was about A.

It was right.

Spencer's iron heart swelled, not in tears but in joyful, deadly pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some rewriting of 2x16.


	29. Light Up

It was already dark outside when Spencer decidedly knocked on the Marins' kitchen door twice, then a third time in case the first two knocks hadn't been heard. A serious expression on her face, she considered what kind of eye-job she could've had done in order to look at Hanna in a truly-sorry, truly-innocent manner. But there was no surgery to fix guilt and anyway she'd never been the kind to look truly innocent, not even when she _was_ innocent, which wasn't the case anymore. She was a little nervous about the whole apology-talk. Determined but nervous. A part of her was certain Hanna was still going to blow her off no matter how sorry she was. Another part of her missed Aria's reassuring presence. Yet a third part of her (given her multiple-personality Hastings disorder) knew that the fastest way to forgiveness for Aria and Emily consisted in whatever _she_ would say to Hanna and in whatever Hanna decided to say _back_  to her tonight. Not because Aria and Emily wouldn't be forgiven soon without this intervention; forgiveness for them probably wouldn't take long. However, Spencer had come to realize that their mere existence as a group, hence all their possibilities to beat A and win the war, depended on this conversation between them, on Spencer's capacity to show Hanna she did care about the way she'd hurt her and about how she could make it up to her.

No one was coming to open, so she thought about going to the front door and ringing the bell.

She didn't consider walking away.

If she left the Marins' like an ashamed, terrified dog, tail between legs, it would be _after_ having the conversation with Hanna, not before.

Her hand hesitated to knock again before her body started moving towards the front door right at the moment when she saw the all-too-familiar dark, tall figure crossing the kitchen. Spencer saw her through the transparent spaces the blinds left open to her sight. _Emily_. For some reason, she felt even more nervous. She was prepared to confront the blond rays and the greenish lightning for the fourth time ever since Hanna exploded in anti-Spencer rage, but not the sight of a estranged girlfriend, even if she knew they both lived in the same house. Emily was right about her: she only saw a part of reality, the part she was _really_ focused on (and everybody had to admit it was considerably extensive, as well as deep and structured), but sometimes she also missed the whole picture. Emily lived, breathed in the whole picture; flooded over the whole picture in tsunami waves even when Spencer somehow managed to push her out of it so she could solve another matter of the highest importance. That was Emily. That was Spencer.

Emily opened the door in recognition and surprise.

"Spencer", she greeted, and she did light up in that special sunny-but-magnetic way of hers, even though she was looking exhausted, her carbon eyes ghostly and plain, "come in."

Spencer came in the kitchen, a small smile on her lips. She was certain the same effect she'd seen in Emily was happening to her: regardless of how irritated she seemed lately, her face was suddenly lighting up like a Christmas tree or fall in New England.

"Hey there."

That was indeed the most articulate form of greeting she could think of.

Emily grabbed her hand, a natural gesture that wasn't followed by the natural kiss.

"Why didn't you text me to say you were coming?"

Right.

In yet another proof of her inability to look at the whole disposition of things, she had forgotten to tell Emily she was coming tonight.

"I'm actually… I'm here to talk to Hanna."

Emily closed the door behind her without letting go of Spencer's hand.

Still no kiss, though.

Spencer wondered if she should lean in and just do it herself, but she didn't. Her mind was focused on Hanna; or was trying to keep focused on Hanna anyway.

"You're gonna try again?", Emily asked, frowning with her characteristic mixture of empathy and concern. "If I'd known you were coming I would've asked Ms. Marin to let me have dinner with you."

"Yeah, sorry", Spencer apologized, crappy-girlfriendship written all over her face, "is she here?"

"Ms. Marin?"

"No, Hanna."

"Yeah", Emily confirmed, rolling her eyes like Hanna's presence was an insufferable annoyance. Normally she stayed in the library if Hanna was going to be home, so she could study at ease. Then she examined Spencer's face in detail. "You look tired."

"You too."

Emily squeezed Spencer's hand upon hearing her response, because they both were indeed feeling tired, and Spencer saw faint sparks rising and starting to fly around them like a sudden, ever-growing explosion of light. She wondered if she'd had too much coffee again, or if her findings about Jenna at the School for the Blind were subverting her judgment. Perhaps it'd been her conversation with Aria about Emily. But the sparks were still flying and the tsunami waves were flooding the room and she could feel all of it. For once, she wasn't going to deny it in the name of bitterness and sarcasm and pride.

Sparks.

Waves.

No kiss though.

She should keep focused on Hanna's (absent) light.

Sure.

Spencer decided to lean in and catch a spark on Emily's lips. The spark felt abrupt, probably too cold and awkward, but it still made her legs weaken and her stomach tighten in response. Damn Aria. _Damn Emily_. When she pulled away from the sparkling kiss, which had been as chaste as ever, Emily's features looked more vivid, not as tired and defeated as they looked before. Maybe it was the spark. Maybe Spencer retained some sort of amazing power in her sexy dictator-detective pocket. Maybe it wasn't only Spencer that was flooded over and drowned by Emily's mere presence in front of her eyes. Maybe it was just love.

"Did you guys find anything?", Emily asked, her voice livelier too. "About that receipt."

"Yeah, I did", Spencer proudly replied, "I mean, _we_ did. Or _I_ did, cause it was after Aria left."

Emily smiled and suddenly her expression turned sly, like it used to be before everything turned bad.

"Yeah, about that: maybe you can explain why Aria sent this text to me a couple hours ago."

She pulled out her cell phone, looked through it and showed the screen to her.

It was a picture of the window where Aria had drawn the heart with the question about Team Sparia or Team Arily. There was a text that only said " _I'm letting you choose before A gets the chance to ruin it_." Apparently she had decided to photograph her mouthful-of-breath masterpiece and send it to Emily, perhaps as a way to try to provide sex for Spencer.

Oh, Aria.

Spencer smiled crookedly.

"What about it?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm asking. What about it?"

"Well, did you answer?"

"Sure I did", Emily replied, trying to hold her cards, " _Team Arily_. But everybody knows it'd be Team Sparia if it had to be _real_."

"Really?"

Emily didn't look away. She was examining her in curiosity.

"So you were having a conversation about different _teams_ or what?", Emily asked, and it was the first time in two weeks they were mentioning the evil-word _team_ without getting weird. "Are we gonna split now? I hope you remember she doesn't play the same team you do."

Were they flirting?

Yes, that was definitely a flirty line.

It was also the first time in two weeks they were fooling around. Ever since that day they made out.

"I do remember that, actually", Spencer answered, "cause it's difficult to forget when all she ever talks about is _Ezzzzrrrraaaaaaahhhhhh_." She repeated the joke in the exact husky tone she'd done it with Aria, hoping to gain the most brilliant smile. The smile appeared on Emily's lips and Spencer was again hit by that melting, burning, drowning feeling. "But you chose her, so does that mean you wanna keep her? For your own team, you know."

Emily leaned against the wall, curious but trying to keep her own mystery. Not that she actually had to try. She _was_ her own kind of mystery, an easy-yet-complex mystery to solve still, sparks and waves and look-aways and kindness and warmth. Spencer felt like she was always slipping from her hands, even though she actually had her, knew her, guessed almost everything that ever crossed her mind, was enveloped in her body and wired to her mind. Still… Emily.

"Is this like choosing basketball teams?"

Emily asked the question in suspicious, playful mode, another spark crossing her eyes.

"I suck at basketball."

"Me too", Emily agreed, letting out a giggle, "and she sucks too, so what's it all about?"

"Why did you choose Team Arily? That's what I wanna know."

"Just so you and Hanna can work things out", Emily found her way out of the trap, "so?"

Hanna.

She should keep focused on Hanna.

But Emily was still curious. And there was the slightly playful, flirty, hopeful tone.

Emily.

"Aria's just trying to make one of us jealous." Spencer opted for the truthful route without giving any explicit information. "It's a joke."

"No kidding."

"I kinda see it's working with you, though."

Emily raised her curvy eyebrows and batted her long lashes in a move both beautiful and enigmatic.

Emily.

Emily was curious, Emily was gorgeous, Emily was mysterious, Emily was flirtatious.

Emily was Spencer's whole picture.

Emily was (still) Spencer's.

Forget Hanna. No, but she couldn't forget Hanna. Hanna was part of the whole picture too.

Yet Emily was right there in all of her _insane_ beauty, suddenly so reachable and warm and playful as she always was or used to be, even if exhausted and kind of cloudy in a way it wasn't so usual, at least not before everything turned bad, and they were flirting like they hadn't flirted in a while. It was a little awkward, but it was coming so naturally. At the same time, Spencer also knew the illusion could be broken any moment, a foot misplaced, a word misunderstood or poorly chosen and it'd be over. It'd probably be over soon, given their recent inability to really engage in themselves and their picture.

"No, it doesn't work that way", Emily said, smiling slyly again, "and anyway that's sort of what I figured she was trying to do, I just wonder _why_."

"You'll have to ask her if you wanna know", Spencer replied, feigning innocence in an obviously wicked way. "So how does it work?"

Emily looked away, searching for an answer. She always did that when she was trying to find the most amusing response. She looked away for a brief instant, almost unconsciously because her intention was to maintain eye contact, then blinked rapidly as if to disclose her ideas to herself before staring back into Spencer's eyes. It wasn't the same way of looking away when she was feeling troubled or shy. It was different.

Spencer knew the expression, had it memorized in every little detail by now.

The whole picture of things.

The little, microscopical details of things.

"It's Aria", Emily said as the only explanation, locking eyes with Spencer again, "it just doesn't work."

"She's gonna be terribly hurt when she hears you say that."

It was amazing and a little unexpected, but Emily smiled and this time it wasn't sly, it was… wide and dazzling like sunburn, like she could be happy, like she was actually happy now.

"No, I love her", Emily argued, "and she knows that. But, I mean, it's Aria. She's a friend. Plus she's, like, obsessed with Mr. Fitz. And there's nothing gay about her."

Spencer leaned against the same wall, gaining the chance to get a little closer.

"Yeah, that's more or less what I said."

With other words and in another order, that was _exactly_ what she'd said.

Emily nodded, trying to seem thoughtful and serious.

"So am I supposed to get jealous? Cause I don't have that much of a gaydar with Aria."

Again, a slightly playful tone came out in Emily's question, along with a clear tinge of curiosity about their conversation. She did want to know. Aria's text had surprised her.

"Which means you have a gaydar with other people?"

"Only with you."

That was a direct one.

"You don't get gay vibes out of anybody else?"

"Not really", Emily shrugged, "Mona's weird sometimes, but I don't think _weird_ equals _gay_."

Spencer laughed, and it felt like she too could be happy.

"I'm not sure I want my weirdness compared to Mona's, no, in fact, I'm totally sure my weirdness doesn't compare to Mona's, but thanks for recognizing this strong, powerful gay vibe I'm putting all my effort in sending out", Spencer answered, speeding up on the flirting limits, although the thought of Mona brought Hanna back to her mind. But she was flirting with Emily and she didn't want to stop it right now. "So I guess I _am_ supposed to get jealous because you actually picked Aria for your basketball team."

"Only so you wouldn't pick _her_. I didn't have much of a choice."

Oh, so now it wasn't about working things out with Hanna.

Gotcha.

Spencer's iron heart grew wings and started to fly around the room in such wild joy she forgot she was here to apologize to Hanna's light for all the damage her iron determination had inflicted on their friendship.

"I'll always pick you first, you know that", Spencer assured, trying to get a speed-flirt ticket, "you're taller."

"Yeah, I know. I'm definitely taller."

Now it was Emily who tugged at her jacket to steal a chaste kiss to her lips.

Well, maybe Aria hadn't managed to get her sex life back, but she had certainly improved the ratio of flirting and chaste kissing. Good for Aria.

"So how was your day?", Spencer asked. "Did you get a lot done?"

She saw the tiredness and the sombre cloud return to Emily's body.

The illusion was shattered, the spell was broken and the light trembled, circuits failing - the room darkened.

The fatal combination of words.

A simple question about the day.

That was how things were lately: they couldn't even share small, ordinary talk about ordinary things without getting awkward and weird and uneasy.

"Yeah, kind of." Emily looked away. This time it was the troubled way. "Some."

Like a curtain sliding shut or a blind rolling down, Emily closed off and shut down, although her fingers were still playing distractedly with a button on Spencer's jacket.

"I can help you", Spencer offered, and it wasn't the first time, "on the weekend."

"No", Emily refused to accept, and it wasn't the first time, "you really need to sleep and get your own homework done, Spencer."

"It's still…"

"So what did you find in Philly?", Emily interrupted. "Anything really important?"

A.

Always something to do and someone to discuss. Spencer _wanted_ to help Emily. Homework was her territory. Emily had a point, because it was true she needed to sleep and to get her own homework done, but Spencer could still _help_. She could do _everything_. She would do _anything_. But there was always something else to do, someone else to discuss, and all the roads were blocked except the A-road.

"It depends on your definition of importance", Spencer answered crisply. "I didn't bring A's head in a bag, but we're getting pretty close."

The problem was they had been getting pretty close for almost a month now and the phrase was starting to feel overused.

Emily smiled a little faintly.

"I was gonna look inside your bag."

"Actually I brought _something_ inside my bag, it's just not A's head… yet."

"What is it? Jenna's?"

That was impressive: Spencer showed it by raising both of her brows in admiration. Emily's sixth sense wasn't only for gay people. She was convinced Jenna was the origin of all of A's doings, much like Spencer was also convinced of it, with a touch of Jason, even though Emily knew Jenna wasn't the person she'd chased in the woods and was sure Jason hadn't been that person either.

Spencer started unzipping her satchel to show Emily the guestbook she'd stolen at the School for the Blind. But then she remembered there was a reason why she'd come to the Marins' and she just couldn't forget about it.

Hanna.

Iron heart, iron cage, knock-down eyes, know-it-all Spencer.

Smart-ass Spencer.

Emily.

Emily. 

Emily.

Her iron-caged-heart wings withdrew into themselves again, the flight stopping dead.

"I really wanna try with Hanna first", Spencer said flatly, "do you mind if I tell you later?"

Emily nodded, looking a little taken aback, and retrieved her fingers from Spencer's jacket.

"Sure", she said, "I have to finish a chapter anyway. I totally hate this Ibsen play, by the way, it's so annoying."

Spencer considered offering help again, but decided against it.

"I hope she doesn't kick me out of the house."

Emily smiled as if to provide encouragement.

"She's cranky today."

"Yeah, like _every day_."

"She hasn't kicked _me_ out, so she won't kick you out either."

But that was different.

Emily was Emily and Spencer was Spencer.

And Hanna was Hanna.

And everything in life was just so freaking complicated.

"I won't kick any of you out, I'm not like you."

The voice flowed away as abruptly as it had first appeared, passing by the hallway that gave entrance to the kitchen.

Spencer almost gaped at the rapidly vanishing blond figure and melodious sound.

"That's the longest sentence she's said to me in a week", Spencer managed to utter once she stopped gaping, loud enough to be heard by Hanna, "and I hope it's not the last one."

Emily shot her another sympathetic look and squeezed her hand in reassurement.

"She'll come around."

"Or not."

"You want me there?"

"No, I wanna do it alone."

Emily seemed to understand, because she didn't ask why.

"Anyway it's not like she's talking to me either", Emily complained too. "Will you come upstairs later and tell me about Philadelphia?"

Spencer nodded. "If she doesn't kill me first."

"Ask for help if you need it."

"I'll scream if she slaps me Hanna-style."

Emily smiled in complicity, squeezed her hand once more and turned around to leave the kitchen on her way to the stairs, while Spencer watched her fit, slim figure disappear behind the door, unable to stop herself from ogling greedily and sighing nostalgically at the disappearing sight of the troubled tsunami sun.

Emily.

Emily.

Hanna.

Iron.

Courage.

Spencer inhaled deeply, allowing the lungs to swell and grow in (self-imposed) confidence and (nearly honest) humbleness. She walked out of the kitchen towards the living room, where she supposed Hanna had gone after realizing Spencer and Emily were talking. After taking a few steps, her ankle boots tiptoeing almost as if she was walking barefoot, she saw her friend sitting on the couch, knees bent against chest in a defensive, yet comfortable position. She was contemplating a mute MTV music-video program about Katy Perry. Spencer wondered why the sound was not on if Hanna was so interested in listening to Katy Perry's hit list. Maybe she was watching only to check her outfits and draw out some ideas for her own future fashion design line, although Spencer hoped it wasn't the case, because Katy Perry's clothes were always kind of awful, in her (not so modest) opinion. Or maybe she was just trying to listen up to Spencer's moves in the house.

"Hey."

Speech, thy name is Hastings.

Hanna turned around and her eyes immediately narrowed.

"I don't see Emily here."

"That's probably because you're not blind."

What was with blindness today?

Spencer walked some more steps into the room, hoping the lack of yelling was already a promising sign.

Hanna turned to continue looking at the silent TV.

"If you're coming to say sorry, you can leave, Spencer. I'm not taking it this time either."

The logical thing would have been to stop in the middle of the room and stand her ground from there. But Spencer had a more aggressive approach to logics, so she continued walking and sat on an armchair in front of the couch, a cautious but direct move that allowed her enough distance to face Hanna and enough closeness to avoid Katy Perry's mute-singing on the screen.

"I need to talk to you."

"You already talked to me _many times_."

"Then I'm gonna try again."

Hanna directed her eyes from the TV to Spencer's sitting form, her arm defensively grabbing a pink cushion that matched her linen pink trousers and placing it between her chest and thighs to act as yet another barrier between them.

"Well, save it", Hanna shot. "You're not forgiven. Bye."

"Fine", Spencer sighed, keeping her quiet composure, "I'm not forgiven. _Hi_."

"I'm sure you can live with it."

There was a caustic, disbelieving air to the words because Hanna knew how hard it was for Spencer to take constant rejection. And, still, there was something honest too; something she believed about the words, about the fact that Spencer would find a way to live without Hanna's forgiveness, the same way Spencer found a way to live with every bad thing that ever happened to her.

Spencer nodded in resignation.

"Okay."

"Stop playing nice and quiet. It doesn't go well with you."

Spencer bent down a little, resting her elbow on her thigh and her chin on her hand while she continued staring at Hanna, who continued pretending to look at Katy Perry.

"Hanna", Spencer finally called in a soft, weak voice, "Han, okay. You don't wanna forgive me, that's fine. But will you please just _listen_?"

"No", Hanna replied, eying her again, "now get out of my living room."

"You said you wouldn't kick me out."

"I'm just kicking you out of _this_ room", Hanna claimed, "that's more than you did for me."

Spencer considered begging even if begging was not exactly what a Hastings would do. Anyway, she wasn't the typical Hastings anymore. She wasn't so sure about what that meant anymore either. She was still finding out.

Beg. 

Crawl.

Hanna was so hurt and it was their fault - mainly it was _her_ fault.

"Please."

"Begging doesn't look good on you either."

See? Hanna realized it too. However, even if it didn't look good on her, Spencer knew when she'd done wrong, and doing wrong to someone she loved didn't look good on her for sure. She wore it badly. She'd worn it badly when she'd done Toby wrong… for a while, at least. For a while. But Hanna was different. This was different.

"I don't care if I'm not looking good right now."

Hanna glared, annoyed and hurt - showing it.

"Don't try playing nice-and-sorry with me, don't come here all crybaby cause it's just _not_ your style, okay?" Hanna raised her voice, and Spencer wondered if Ms. Marin was somewhere nearer in the house. "You made your decision, now you just live with it."

"Okay", Spencer repeated, a little out of breath because her eyes were starting to sting in actual crybaby fashion, "okay, I try to live with it, but you still have to listen to me."

"No, Spencer, _I don't have to_ , cause I don't take your orders or your apologies anymore."

Spencer felt the accusation sticking really close to her heart.

"Fine, that's fine too." She raised her own voice a little, losing part of her composure. "You don't have to do anything, Hanna, but I…" She struggled with everything she'd been thinking this afternoon. With everything she'd talked about with Aria. "I _am_ sorry. I'm sorry I did it _to you_ , okay? I did it for us, I did it for you too, I did it cause we were _desperate_."

"That's not an excuse", Hanna replied ruthlessly, her eyes reddish too. It was always so easy to see through crybaby-eyes in people with clear eyes. It was so easy to see them break down. Easier than it was with dark-eyed people, with knock-down-eyed people. "Cause we've all been there, Spencer, we've all been desperate, me too."

"I know."

"Anyway you didn't do it alone. So don't worry, you can share the blame with _them_."

"I don't wanna share the blame, I wanna talk to you."

"Well, I don't wanna talk to _you_ , so bad luck, huh?", Hanna shot again, "y _ou_ kicked me out, now just leave me out of it. It should be easy."

She shrugged her shoulders, pretending to make it look easy, but her clear eyes were too red and her face was too congested and her sweet, singsong voice was too nasal.

"It's not easy", Spencer answered, "I didn't wanna do it, Hanna, I wasn't trying to…"

"You did it. That's what matters. _You did it_."

Spencer swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

"I did."

"You did."

Repetition.

They were stuck.

Aria, where are you in my head now?

"I'm sorry I hurt _you_ of all people", she managed to say, "with everything we've been together and all the ways you've helped me, Han."

Now the glare was truly blood-injected red, all clear blues gone.

"You could've lashed out at me for destroying the flash drive, Spencer", Hanna accused, "but what did you do instead? You just… you pushed me out like it was nothing. You left me out."

"But it was _something_!" Spencer almost yelled, but then kept her voice down in fear of Hanna's mom. "Look, I know it wasn't… maybe I should've screamed, okay? But leaving you out seemed like the fastest road to catch A and Caleb agreed with it and _I took it_ , and I took it for you too."

"Well, good luck to you and _them_ , Spencer, and have a safe fast trip to A-land."

"I want you back on board."

Hanna burst out in a dry, brief laugh.

"You're funny."

"I'll stop the whole thing if that's what you want me to do."

"What?"

Hanna leaned forward now, embracing her defence-cushion, and Spencer almost couldn't believe the words that had come out of her own mouth.

"I'll stop everything. I need you back."

"You're lying again, you know that's something you're _never_ gonna do."

Maybe she was actually lying. She wasn't totally sure. Hanna was probably right and all she'd be able to do was find another way to set things in motion while sort of luring Hanna back in the game. But she needed Hanna. She couldn't do this without Hanna.

"We can't… I won't do this without you."

 _Touché_.

Hanna's rage seemed to waver in confusion for a moment.

"So first you push me out and then you want me back? You're _really_ getting weirder without me, Spencer."

"You can hate me as much as you want, but please come back."

"I won't come back", Hanna quietly said, looking away to Katy Perry again, "I'd rather hang out with Mona, at least she's not playing around with me and my life."

"You think Mona's gonna get you out of this?"

"We're never gonna get out of this."

Impressed by the drop-dead serious fatality of Hanna's words, Spencer swallowed and, for the first time in the conversation, felt the need to look away too. She did, letting her eyes rest on one of the chairs next to the dining table that the Marins never used anymore ever since Hanna's dad left (they usually had dinner in the kitchen), then in Hanna's defensive pink cushion, trying to encourage herself to find the words she wanted to say. They would get out of this. They couldn't lose all hope. They would get out of this. They were getting so close. Hanna was right: Spencer wasn't going to stop this. But Hanna had to come back.

"I'll protect Caleb with my own life", Spencer stated, her voice firm again, "he's one of us now. I'm not just using him, Hanna, I promise."

Hanna shot her a cutting, daring look.

"You can't protect him _enough_ , Spencer. You can't even protect yourself, you can't even protect _her_."

And by her she meant Emily. They both understood.

The new stab reached the center of Spencer's heart, and she flinched in pain because Hanna also knew where to hit when she wanted to.

"Maybe I can't totally promise that, you're right", Spencer admitted, her voice weaker now, "but I'm gonna try and it's gonna work."

Her Hastings pride reacted like a retorting body in the agony of the fight. You don't go down without saying all you have to say, you just don't. You say all there's to say, you do all there's to do, and you do it truthfully and valiantly, heart and mind. Then you can go down.

Only then can you go down.

Hanna watched her closely, this time less cuttingly because she knew where she'd hit.

"It's not only him I was protecting, Spencer."

Spencer frowned in confusion, opening her mouth without uttering a sound. This she wasn't really expecting.

"Is there… Are there more things A has against you?"

Hanna looked elsewhere, like she didn't know where to send her eyes anymore, before confronting her again.

"Don't we all have _more_ things, Spencer? Isn't that the reason why Emily actually _quit_?"

"I… But I know about Emily's… What is it?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"Because _I can't tell you_."

Spencer closed her mouth, then opened it again, then closed it. Thoughts were rushing through her mind. It had to be something… something Hanna had done or something someone else had done. Not Caleb, but someone even more important, someone…

"Your mom."

Hanna seemed honestly scared and offended by the words.

"No."

It was her mom: there was something Hanna was trying to keep from A or that A was using against her and her mom.

Spencer tried to think fast.

"But that's one more reason to come back on board, Han, I'll…"

"You don't get it", Hanna cut her off, "you don't know… it's…"

"Does Emily know?"

"Nobody knows. _You don't know either_."

"Caleb?"

"I had to tell him a small part of it… just to make him understand."

"Can you at least tell me the part you told him?"

"No."

Fuck!

Why not?

Okay, it made sense. If it were her, she wouldn't tell a family secret that could hurt her mother or father so easily either, even to one of them, just in case it might get things more complicated.

It made sense.

It made sense.

Now think.

Fast.

"Han, I'm serious, we're breaking down without you and you're breaking down without us too."

Hanna looked at her as though that approach could never really be successful.

"You already broke me", she deadpanned, "when you decided to get me out of this while you lied to me in _my_ face."

Spencer nodded emphatically. "I know."

"Then why did you do it?"

"So it was better to just ignore you?", Spencer protested, representing her case, "was it better to just leave you out of it _for real_? I didn't want you out for real, Hanna, I was trying to _keep you close_."

"You were all icing me out and I knew something was wrong!"

"I was the one who tried to keep you close!"

That was why she'd picked up the calls, why'd she'd met her for a movie, why she'd lied to her in the face. She didn't really want her out of it. She was trying to control the consequences of their temporary secret mission while she found a way to get Hanna back inside again.

"You're a crappy liar, by the way."

"I…"

"But it's true, at least you answered your phone. That's typical you." Hanna made a pause, thinking about it. "Just put me down like I'm some kind of dying animal while you're holding my hand to my sweet death, like… the Black Widow or the Angel of Death or whatever those people are called. Just be the good, compassionate Spencer Hastings after stabbing me in the back so you can make peace with yourself later."

A dictator. A black widow. An angel of death. A veterinary?

 _Come on_.

She was trying to keep Hanna close, not to get rid of her!

" _The black widow_?", Spencer complained. "And anyway… do you see a lot of _peace_ here?"

Hanna leaned back, the cushion-barrier suddenly left aside.

"I'm not coming back."

"Well, that's bad, cause I need you back and I'm not giving up."

They stared at each other, tears still stinging their differently shaded eyes.

"I'm not gonna hug you to make you feel better."

"Does that mean you're gonna come back?"

"No."

Spencer sighed. "They need you too, Hanna."

"You mean Emily."

Spencer's heart twisted in agony again.

"Yes", she accepted, "she listens to you, and Aria too."

"Sure."

"I mean it", Spencer said, "Em's already having a rough time and you're not really talking to her… so it's just getting worse."

"I've already tried talking to Em, okay? And it doesn't work."

"After getting angry, you mean?"

"Before and after", Hanna explained. "Maybe I didn't use the best way to approach her _after_ , but you can't blame me cause she's a traitor too. And they all follow you around like you're …" She dedicated a couple of seconds to think of something awful to add to the murderous veterinary, the black widow and the angel of death. "You know, that weird flute guy from that children's story… Hamelin or whatever."

What the hell?

Now she was the Pied Piper of Hamelin-Rosewood? She was never good with the _flute_! She wasn't even good with children… and certainly not with rats.

"Okay, Han, _fine_ , I get it", Spencer retorted, "I'm a murderous, lying… magical-music bitch."

"And they're your slaves and your minions and your little monkeys."

"And I'm sending them to their death, right?"

They exchanged a meaningful, somehow timid look.

"Whatever."

Spencer crossed her arms, leaning back on her armchair and loudly groaning before re-focusing on the conversation.

"What did you say to her?"

They didn't need to name the person they were talking about.

"I told her to stop pretending she was a nerd and to move her ass back into the pool. She didn't tell you?"

Spencer shook her head no. "She's not being very talkative about that kind of thing lately."

"Yeah, I know."

They looked at each other again in sudden understanding and, in that brief instant, the pure matter of a millisecond, an infinitesimal particle of time and space, everything changed between them. Spencer didn't know what or why or how. Maybe it happened because they were talking about Emily, or maybe it was because Spencer had taken all the bad names Hanna had dedicated to her without really losing her nerve, or maybe it was because they were really the best allies the world could ever imagine without actually finding a way to figure them out together, they were apparently so different and radically opposite as day and night, yet they managed to understand each other pretty well. Even after Alison disappeared, when everybody ran free to their own little corner of the world and Hanna became the It Girl and Spencer became the Stiff Nerd she was somehow destined to be, while Aria just left and Emily retracted into herself, they were the ones who kept talking in some sort of distant, amicable complicity they couldn't easily let go of.

Maybe it was because Hanna missed Spencer too.

"I need you back", Spencer repeated, pushing after perceiving the obvious change of mood, "I really do."

Hanna leaned forward again.

"What are you gonna do about her?"

Hanna sounded really concerned, and Spencer knew all the barriers had fallen down. No pink cushion. No backstabbing. No black widow or Hamelin flute. There was nothing between them but their red-injected eyes and their common strength.

Their surprising, conspirational alliance.

"I don't know."

"I don't think she's really studying that much", Hanna explained, returning to her informant-role, "I mean, she puts up a good show for my mom so my mom will tell her mom, but I look at her and I just know she's not really thinking about it. There's no way she's gonna get a scholarship like this, Spencer."

Their secret alliance.

Hanna.

Emily.

Emily.

Emily was so troubled, didn't talk, didn't formally accept help. She looked the same, was still warm and kind, only a little more tired and a little less eloquent, but was struggling so hard and Spencer didn't really know how… Spencer's eyes filled with so many more tears than she could manage to choke down in a single moment that she was forced to deploy all her capacity for raw, bloody cruelty to fight them back.

"Yeah", she croaked, hardly controlling her voice, "yeah."

"You need to get her back on the team", Hanna insisted. She seemed to have been thinking a lot about it too. "She's totally gonna flunk and her parents are totally gonna freak out."

Swallowing, choking the tears down, the raspy voice re-emerged.

"I'm _trying_ here."

"Well, can't you just _order_ her to do it?"

"Sure, cause Em works like that, right?", Spencer sarcastically replied, managing a little control. "If I order her to go to the pool she'll probably never even drink water again."

Hanna actually smiled at that.

"You could at least tutor her like you tutored Toby. You're good at tutoring all your boyfriends-girlfriends."

It was Spencer's turn to shoot a watery-eyed resentful look.

"She doesn't let me. I already offered, like, a million times."

"Well, _get_ someone else to do it."

"Who?"

"Just think of someone smart like you. Your sister. She's smarter than you."

"Oh, come on!"

"She's a bitch too."

"Stop trying to piss me off like that. I'm not gonna change my mind about getting you back."

"What about Lucas?"

"I don't think learning a few _Star Wars_ dialogues is gonna make such a great difference in her academic life, Hanna."

"Well, sorry, Ms. Hastings, but it's _you_ who should be tutoring her _and_ pushing her ass down in the water."

Spencer looked down ashamed, knowing Hanna was right and it should be her.

It really should be her.

"I'll offer again", she said, knowing it wouldn't work anyway, "she's not gonna flunk… she's just probably thinking about A and the swim team _too much_."

"She's a pain in the ass like you."

"Thanks."

Hanna stared thoughtfully, letting her back rest on the couch again, her posture so much more relaxed now.

"She's trying to save you", she finally said, "both of you, your relationship."

Spencer nodded, admitting to it but unable to even croak a _yes_ this time. The sight of her helplessness might have been pathetic enough to actually make Hanna move, because she stood up and crossed the distance to Spencer's armchair. There she crouched down and put her transparent-pale hand with her polished pink nails (pink everywhere) on Spencer's knee, which caused Spencer's not-so-transparent-pale hand, with her polished dark-cherry nails, to hesitantly advance and cover Hanna's hand.

"Are you coming back? Cause I really _, really_ miss you."

"You can't live without my detective heels, huh?"

"I can't live without your noisy detective heels."

"I always knew you loved them", Hanna joked, lifting her head to try to get a direct look of Spencer's face, because Spencer was looking down at their nail colors. Then Hanna frowned in fake mockery as she touched Spencer's blue-and-white plaid shirt under her gray sweater. "Why are you even wearing this? I thought you'd given all of your plaid shirts to Emily?"

"That's not gonna work to piss me off either, Hanna."

They both smiled at the same time.

"I actually like this one", Hanna admitted, "it's sort of nice and classy."

"I _know_ you love my style. I'm always nice and classy."

"I love it when you actually follow my advice. I know how to pick your clothes."

"I'll let you take me shopping if you come back."

"We'll see."

"You're just playing hard to get, but you don't fool me. You want me and my money to go shopping."

"There's not enough money on earth to buy the stuff I'd make you buy."

"Whoa, you do really want this so badly. I'm a better shopping-friend than Mona, aren't I?"

"Mona's not a backstabbing friend."

"But she's annoying."

"You're annoying too. And a nerd."

"But I'm all sorts of nice and classy. I win."

"Shut up, Nerd."

They laughed now, knowing they had signed the _peace_ treaty. Well, they had actually signed it a while ago and they both knew. However, Spencer was actually quite a soft, warm person despite all her sulky, irritating leader ways, and she was in desperate need of a formal, soft-and-warm signature of peace, so she leaned down and hugged Hanna tightly. She felt relief washing over her body, like she'd accomplished something great even though there were so many other great hardships that still needed to be overcome.

Emily.

When they separated, Hanna's eyes were even redder, but she was a strong girl. She wasn't easy to break. None of them were.

"I'm sorry too", Hanna murmured, her voice cracking as well, "about the flash drive."

Spencer nodded. "I'm sorry about the backstabbing and the lying in the face."

"You win."

They laughed again, and Spencer rubbed some tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I should leave now."

"What did you and Aria find in Philly?"

"How do you know we went there?"

Hanna's eyes glinted in mischief. "I heard you talking to Em. What did you find?"

"An interesting piece of shit about Jenna's old School-for-the-Blind days."

"Are you gonna tell me about it?"

"It depends. Are you back on board now?"

"You always need to hear it, right?"

"You do know me so well."

"I am back on board."

Spencer smirked in satisfaction.

"Thank god."

"Thank _me_."

"Thank _you_."

"So? Jenna."

Spencer was opening her mouth to tell Hanna all about her discoveries when she remembered she'd promised to tell Emily about them too. Emily, who was upstairs pretending to finish a chapter of that Ibsen play and hating every second of it. Emily, upstairs, hiding herself. Emily, the whole picture; Emily, the little, microscopical details.

Emily.

Emily.

Emily.

The tsunami wave, the sparkling, dazzling, insane black-hole sun.

"Why don't we go upstairs and I tell you two about it?"

"No", Hanna denied, shaking her head like it was obvious the story had to be told in different departments, "you probably wanna spend some time together… and, you know, kiss-kiss while you share the Jenna details."

Together.

Kiss-kiss.

No.

It was better if the three of them faced the ordeal right now. It'd be easier too. Spencer was really tired, Emily was too, and it was better to tell the story once (or twice, because she would call Aria later to inform her of the actual importance of The Receipt; also to tell her about the Team Sparia versus Team Arily results regarding Emily). Besides, it would do Emily good: getting Hanna back was something Emily also needed, probably much more than a kiss-kiss session that wasn't going to happen anyway.

"No, c'mon up", Spencer insisted, standing up and grabbing Hanna's arm, "she's gonna be happy to see you there."

Hanna lighted up like another kind of sun.

And so the two of them started the path upstairs to Emily's troubled study cave.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some rewriting of 2x18.


	30. Ghosts

Emily sneaked inside the large room and walked in rhythmic steps to the benches, her dark gaze avoiding the water as her hands sank into the pockets of her purple hoodie. Like a stranger, a foreigner who was paying a long due visit, a tourist to the monument of the pool, Emily chose the third row. Keeping her distance in respect and caution, she climbed up the bench and stood up on the metallic plank, finally confronting the view as she turned around in the air. The light blue filled her eyes and the chlorine fluttered in slow blows until completely invading her lungs, the smell so intense her mouth almost tasted the water, causing her jaw to tighten in an unusual, unlikely hard gesture. Maybe this hadn't been a great idea. She should probably go back to her defensive post in the library, where she was battling the war against A now that Spencer and Aria (Team Sparia) led the offensive and Hanna had been re-incorporated with gold stars to the army of anti-A-doom. But, now that she was here, and now that she was alone, and taking into consideration that she should really return the extra keys to the coach even if she still hadn't been asked to do it, it was better to get it over with. It had to happen at some point, after all. It'd better happen before she got an invitation for a swim meet she wouldn't be able to dismiss.

Go Sharks, go.

Jeans touching the backrest as she sat on it, fingers curling around its cold metal, Emily watched the water in a hesitant, respectful silence.

A stranger to the pool.

A newborn to the world.

Emily Fields, this is the world you live in today, the world without the pool.

Hey there.

Nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you too.

Hard as it was to believe, this was the first time she'd set a foot here ever since the day she quit the team. Swim practice was over for the day and the previous agitation had been completely erased from the atmosphere, yet invisible footprints still marked the safety rubber floor surrounding the pool like drops staining the air and painting it in transparent, subtle colors and notes. She could almost hear the sounds of their clean, limpid strokes, envision the swimmers groaning as they checked their times. Could she identify the owners of the liquid footprints if she actually got closer to the pool? Speedy-swimmer, graceful team-captain Emily Fields; killer Emily Fields; quitter, weak-link, good-girl, now moody, ghostly Emily Fields; but not a cheat; never a cheat. This was the Emily Fields who was here now paying the visit to the pool, not to say hello, not to say goodbye either; it was more of an in-between, a how-you-doing kind of salutation like a timid passerby, like an old, estranged friend, because she was still caught up on that vague, cloudy place where she could not tell what was going to happen with her (swimmer) life. She couldn't really say yet. But could she tell who had been there and who had skipped practice, like the good, responsible captain she used to be a few weeks ago? That was if she actually got closer to the water. Probably not. She was no imaginary water-footprint hunter. Besides, she'd better not get close to the water now. Maybe next time, for the next visit, she'd be prepared to say hello and sink her feet inside, maybe even swim a couple of lanes if no one was watching.

Hey, water.

Cry me a pool.

Do you miss me like I miss you too?

Emily inhaled deeply, saving the tears and sticking to her place on the bench.

Facing the truth, thinking about it was the first, the most important step to recovery. It'd been impossible to do for the past weeks, but Emily had promised herself she wouldn't stop swimming, even training when she made the decision to quit. Yet – she couldn't even entertain the thought of just going for an easy, uncompromising swim. And it wasn't as if she adored the competition for the sake of it (she was no Hastings); she didn't really miss the team in that sense; well, maybe a little, because she'd learned to enjoy the adrenaline-fuelled feeling of winning a race too. It wasn't the first time she'd been apart from the pool either. But, as usual, the problem with her – the problem with Emily Fields – was that she'd been slow to calculate the consequences of her decision, she'd fooled herself into believing it'd be faster, easier to get to A once they had the phone in their hands. But it wasn't. It never was. Hanna was right: it never was easy whenever A was involved. Her comeback to the team had to be postponed one more day… one more week, one more month? The problem was that Emily lived in the perpetual postponement of life. Spencer kept hinting at the problem, sort of speaking in what she must have thought were subtle messages of concern, implying without any antagonism that a new decision couldn't be postponed much longer. Spencer didn't know how to be subtle about what she thought; she was trying really hard not to sound bossy and judgmental, which was adorable in that unique Spencer-way, although it was also painful for Emily, because Emily knew Spencer was trying only so she wouldn't upset her or add another problem to the problems Emily was already coping with. However, the sight of Spencer trying so hard for her somehow aggravated all of it; it shouldn't be like that between them; they didn't work that way. Meanwhile, her parents kept _insisting_ she simply _had_ to stop the nonsense, a tinge of extreme impatience hidden behind the worry in her mother's voice: the condition to stay in Rosewood was to get a row of As, and a single B meant either going back to the team or the threat of leaving town. Even her father was trying his best to sound ruthless about it, probably because he didn't know exactly what to do. They were coming to celebrate her birthday, and Emily suspected it was also to stage some kind of intervention. At school, the coach didn't ask for the extra keys to the pool, and the principal dedicated longing glances to her whenever he saw her walking by the hallways, as though he was in a platonic love affair with the lost swimmer, not exactly (thankfully) with the real, yet ghostly Emily Fields. Emily Fields, ex-swimmer, ex-captain of the team, suddenly the object of nostalgic affection of a handful of people at Rosewood High, _people who missed her_. It was awkward at its best, especially because she had to pretend she just didn't care about it, a bronze statue with no-see eyes, always lowering her head until a book fell into her hands – or until she pretended to find one, anyway.

Books.

Not that she hated them, but they reminded her of everything she couldn't do right now.

That was why she'd come here today, though. A baby step towards recovery. There used to be a time when she'd come to the pool to clear her head every day like it was _nothing_. Established as a routine, this was her little customary world in Rosewood, PA, the little world she knew besides going to class and holding secret meetings and getting anonymous texts one day or another. This was what Emily used to do for years: she came to swim practice and her head cleared up of all the noise, and it happened like it was really _nothing_ , like it'd go on forever, like it'd actually improve her life, a companion to college and then what else. What else. Everything else. The future else. Sound was out, sight went blank underwater – starry black, then a wavering, daring, taunting blue, sweet adrenaline feeding her muscles in a music only she could produce; then she got out, still hearing nothing but her own heart until someone talked to her, sometimes a roar of voices and hoots when it was a meeting; she turned around in a naturally learned gesture and searched for her friends, always seeing Spencer's arrow-figure first, leaning forward, fists reaching high, even back when it was Alison's image Emily looked for before anyone else's; and she smiled. It was so different from all the other things she ever did. Classes, friends, would-be loves, parents, teachers, words, clues, phones. Everything just disappeared underwater for a moment before coming back with striking clarity and force. Like Spencer. Yes, like Spencer. Emily had come to the pool to find a way to deal with her feelings for Spencer at the time when she was sort of trying to exterminate them, months ago. Because it was peaceful here. Because it was silent here. There was always going to be a secret place without noise and fear, and it didn't really matter if she was swimming for a team or not: Emily could just feel it, see it _inside_ of her, it was inside and it belonged to her; but the pool reminded her of it with such intensity it still astonished her and moved her to tears. Emily had believed, up until this point, that no matter what happened it'd always be there for her, she'd always be a swimmer even if she didn't actually swim for a team, even if she didn't swim to win a race.

Always.

Emily Fields.

This was the new world, this was the new Emily Fields.

An almost seventeen-year-old baby ghost.

A swimmer without a pool, a fighter fighting the war from the library.

A nobody.

The swimmer Fields, the killer Fields, the quitter Fields.

But she was also the bold, temerary Fields who stole A's phone.

She had to find her way back, if not to the pool, at least to the secret place inside of her, to her peace of mind. And also to the pool, because she owed it to Spencer. She owed so many things to Spencer, who was killing herself over this. Maybe she should get closer to the water, just get a little closer and try. It was nothing, really. It didn't mean she was coming back. It didn't mean she was going to break down about it or that she was going to get Bs or that her parents were going to freak out even more. It was just a pool, the same old pool, the same old place, the same old school where she came every day and walked around and greeted the people she knew. Just as she was the same Emily Fields who was actually turning seventeen in a few days and had asked Spencer to leave Rosewood for a couple of hours and have dinner somewhere else for her birthday, maybe in Philadelphia, somewhere nice and cool and A-free (although A's power also reached Philadelphia). Just to get out of Rosewood, in case they could actually make some nice carefree conversation for the first time in weeks; maybe even kiss inside of Spencer's car after they left the place; maybe even make out (but sex didn't solve problems, she had to keep that in mind) as a special birthday occasion. It wasn't Spencer's fault they weren't really talking (or kissing) much. It was hers. She didn't really know what to say to Spencer. Most of the times she felt there was nothing to say that would calm Spencer down the way Emily's presence seemed to soothe Spencer's nerves some time ago. It was up to her to relax Spencer and all she was doing later was drive her to a state of higher anxiety and hyperactivity. And still she couldn't find anything to say, not a thing to say about it.

What else.

She had to _do_ something, stop complaining, stop fighting tears in every restroom.

Stretching out and standing up on the plank, Emily gained an eagle-view of the object of her own nostalgic affection: the pool.

Do you miss me too, do you?

As if an inanimate object could _feel_ her near or even care about her feelings.

"Emily?"

No, the pool was not talking to her. She wasn't that crazy yet.

Emily turned towards the voice, her heart jumping in automatic fright despite the evidence of a harmless, well-known presence.

Busted.

Busted by the new team captain.

"Yeah, hi."

Paige smiled, clearly surprised by Emily's hoodie-eagle position in the benches. Her auburn hair was still wet from the showers and shone in different wooden and orangish shades, combined with the darker shadows and the artificial bluish lights in the room.

"What are you doing here?"

The question came out direct as Paige decidedly walked towards the benches to join her.

Emily just shrugged her shoulders, trying to hide the disappointment as Paige got closer, an air of natural, fresh energy about her that virtually neutralized every grim, sombre wave Emily was sending out and imposing on the room. She didn't want anyone to find her here; much less the new team captain, even if it was Paige. She didn't want to explain anything to anybody. She didn't want to have another swimmer so close to her right now. She didn't want to be aware of two different energies mixed up and combined: one fresh out of the water, the other one a ghost that had crumpled out of the crumpled pages of a book.

"Nothing."

That was all her mind could put together and package into a word.

"I thought I'd closed the door", Paige replied in a plain tone, almost as if she wasn't _that_ conscious of the difference in energy. "How did you come inside?"

Emily pursed her lips, uneasy about the question even if there was nothing accusatory in it.

"I still have a key", Emily explained with the truth, but then added the lie, "I was gonna give it back but there was no one here."

Yes, you lie.

You lie because that's what A wants you to keep doing.

Paige climbed up the benches in fast steps until she was standing next to Emily on the plank. Both standing up, they looked down to the pool.

"Are you coming back?"

One thing Paige had grown to be was very direct about her questions. She was always direct but also somewhat awkward. In the process of becoming even more direct, Paige had lost a lot of awkwardness and had gained confidence and spontaneity, especially when she felt comfortable around people or in places she liked to be. Emily was one of those people Paige felt comfortable around, apparently. The pool Paige definitely liked.

Emily shook her head, but a coy smile made its appearance and broke into her full lips.

"Why? Are you scared you're gonna lose again?"

She didn't really mean to sound so cocky, but at the same time she couldn't totally help it.

Paige responded with a thinly veiled smile.

"I should be scared, right?" Paige's smile grew wider. "I wish I could be."

Emily frowned, not exactly understanding the meaning of the wish. It could be a challenge, though, so she smiled another knowing smile. They had been friendly rivals ever since Paige stopped behaving like a jerk.

"Meaning."

"We miss you", Paige said instead of throwing down a challenging gauntlet, "and we want you back. Me too."

Emily nodded, not really surprised by the abrupt honesty emanating from the new captain. All cockiness aside, Paige seemed to be fond of her, probably because of their history together… which hadn't been as long as to be considered History with a capital H, but Emily guessed it'd been significant enough for both of them, especially for Paige in some ways.

"No, really, we do", Paige assured, mistaking Emily's nod for a sign of disbelief, "I do."

Emily looked straight at her to instil some reassurance into the other swimmer.

"Thanks."

"I mean it."

Well, Paige was still a little awkward sometimes. Or maybe Emily just didn't look convincing enough.

"And I mean my thanks."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"So are you coming back now?"

"No."

Paige sighed, another thin smile returning to her lips.

"At least you can say out there I'm trying my best to get you back."

Then she redirected her brownish eyes to the water, and Emily did the same, somehow catching a double sense she wasn't so sure was actually there. Was it always this awkward with exes? Did everybody wonder about double meanings, or was it only her? Truth was she'd never felt that kind of ambiguity with Paige again, not since she started dating Spencer, and anyway it'd been Paige who had decided to leave the whole thing between them in the dark and hidden, so she was probably making a fuss out of the comment.

Ages had gone by since they kind of dated.

Paige was just trying to do what everybody else was trying to do: get her back on the team. But it wasn't as if she needed to be convinced about how good a swimmer she was.

"I must be such a winner", Emily joked in order to deactivate the possibility of any double meaning, "cause right now everybody's sorta trying to get me back on the team."

"Definitely", Paige agreed, "you know you are."

"I feel the love."

Okay, so maybe this joke wasn't the best one, but it was too late to suck it back up.

"You should."

No, maybe it wasn't the best comment.

They stayed in silence, still looking down on the water until Paige returned her gaze to Emily.

"So", Paige started, "what are you doing sneaking in here with your stolen keys, captain? Just thinking about coming back to push me out of it?"

Confronted with the new question, somehow relieved the double meaning wasn't there but anguished about the return of the pool-theme, Emily decided to buy some time and sit. This time she sat on the plank like a normal, well-behaved spectator and not on the backrest, the reticence to talk overwhelming her and closing down on her throat once more.

She should just leave with an excuse… the eternal excuse about studying.

It'd become easy.

"Something like that, yeah."

"Well, then there's nothing to think about, just don't give back the keys", Paige tried again, sitting by her side too, "although let me tell you I'll be putting up a fight."

Paige obviously felt like talking. They hadn't really seen each other in a while, other than crossing their paths in the halls or exchanging a greeting in class.

"You know you don't stand a chance", Emily mocked, but felt immediately grim about her words because she wasn't really training these days, so Paige probably stood every chance to beat her right now, "plus you already called me captain."

"Cause you're still my captain."

_Oh, captain, my captain_.

Your captain's dead.

Or a ghost.

"You're the new captain now, you better get used to it."

"I'm trying."

"And you're probably loving every second of it", Emily smiled, but the smile rapidly faded away, "anyway I'm not coming back."

Paige shot Emily a look full of curiosity.

"I never actually formally thanked you for the words you said about me to the coach", she said, very formally indeed, "so… you know, thank you."

Emily did remember a thank-you that had actually been exchanged in between classes.

"I think you did thank me, Paige."

"I did?"

"Yeah."

"Right, that time I sorta ran into you in Calculus", Paige confirmed with a snarky charm, because she had gone there looking for Emily, "it's getting hard to see you around lately."

"I'm studying a lot."

That was the official reason, and they both looked back to the pool, somehow enjoying the awkward silence more than the sound of words.

Some seconds passed.

Emily started thinking again about moving her limbs back to the library. She didn't really want to be here all this time.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Paige spoke out of the blue, almost as if she'd perceived Emily's immediate excuse to say goodbye.

Emily turned to look at her quizzically, hoping it wouldn't be about the team and at the same time knowing it'd be about the team.

"It depends", Emily answered, "shoot."

"Why did you actually quit?"

A direct question about the team.

A direct question Emily couldn't answer with the truth. She didn't know what she was doing here. She shouldn't have come.

Just say it like every other time you say the words.

"I want to get better grades", Emily repeated, and she knew she was sounding formulaic and lame, "and anyway I'm not gonna be this great swimmer everyone was expecting me to be, and I don't really want that for me, I was feeling too pressured to go on and get better and about the scholarships and so on."

Said and done.

Sounding almost like a recorded message in a voice machine.

She had quit because of A and she kept lying because of A.

A always won.

"But you used to really love this", Paige opted to shoot back tentatively, obviously not buying the voice-machine explanation, "you were the one who told me it wasn't about winning or about becoming great or about any other thing you could achieve, only about swimming."

Emily swallowed her guts and her heart.

"I got tired of it."

"You're not gonna tell me the actual reason?"

"That _is_ the actual reason."

The unusually curt response made Paige back off a little, even physically.

"If that's the actual reason", she said, not really giving up, "why are you here today and why do you look so…?"

She searched for the most appropriate word but couldn't find it, so the sentence was left unfinished.

"So what?"

Emily wondered if everybody saw a ghost whenever they looked at her.

"So sad, so _not_ happy."

There it was.

Yes, everybody saw it.

The last thing Emily needed was another person questioning her motives but she was here. She had come to the pool in search of a baby-step recovery. And she'd run into Paige, so it wasn't as if she could erase the whole situation now and act like it wasn't even possible to run into someone who would specifically question her about this.

"I still miss it sometimes." She decided to say part of the truth. "And it helps me think about my problems."

She could feel Paige's eyes boring holes into her skin, trying to uncover the truth.

"So what are you thinking about?"

"Those are _two_ personal questions."

It did come out as sort of curt again, although that wasn't Emily's intention.

"Okay, Emily", Paige softly protested, lifting her hands a little in surrender, "I'm sorry."

Shit.

Moody, ghostly Emily was really better off with her mouth shut.

"No, I _am_ sorry", Emily apologized, "I'm just kinda worn out about everything and it gets a little tiring to explain the same thing over and over to everyone who asks, but it's all right, really."

Paige nodded, and this time she seemed to understand what Emily meant.

"You don't need to explain anything."

"No, it's okay", Emily insisted, feeling bad about behaving so moodily with everybody she ever saw who actually showed a little concern about her motives. She breathed deeply, infusing a false sense of courage and tranquillity into herself. She was so tired of this situation, and only two weeks and a half had sort of passed by. "I think I should try playing some other sport. Cause, you know, studying so much's really getting on my nerves lately and I don't really move a lot and it's weird, you know, cause I'm used to moving every day."

She'd actually been thinking about this for the past few days but it was the first time she expressed it in words. She was going crazy in this state of reclusion and paralysis. For years now she'd been practicing a sport and it was driving her nuts to suddenly behave like a blinded bookworm. Even bookworms such as Spencer actually practiced sports. Well, Spencer did everything. There was never a bookworm more active than Spencer.

Paige raised her brows.

"Another sport?"

"Yeah, one that's not so… you know, that doesn't consume me so much."

"That you don't love so much, you mean."

Emily shot a resentful glance. Paige _did_ seem too comfortable and direct around her.

"That I don't have to dedicate so much time to, yeah."

"What sport have you been thinking of?"

"Maybe field tracking?", Emily said out loud, not really avoiding the dreamy albeit sarcastic tone. "It goes with my name."

Paige smiled widely at Emily's joke.

"What is that anyways? Sounds like a sport for dogs and not for people."

"It's like cross-country running."

Like chasing A in the woods.

"So it's basically running."

"I'm a good runner, especially if it's cross-country."

Especially if it meant running after A.

Paige nodded, widening her brown eyes as she thought about it.

"Well, if you're so sure… go for it."

"Yeah, I might do it… if I have time."

"You should… you obviously need the exercise", Paige said, and then her skin suddenly, unexpectedly blushed in a diffused pinkish shade that somehow matched her eyes and her hair. "You know, to blow off some steam if you're getting so nervous."

Emily wondered about the blush. It had no apparent reason.

"I might do it", Emily repeated. There was actually a team at school but it wasn't a very popular sport in Rosewood, so it wouldn't get A's attention as much as swimming. Since she wouldn't get a scholarship or any prestige out of it A would leave her alone. "There's a team here… I'll tell Spencer about it, see if she knows something."

"Does she have to give you permission?"

The kind of too-comfortable, too-direct, too-something-else question caught Emily by surprise, and her brows curved and rose in interrogative, irritated fashion.

"Obviously not."

Paige blushed more intensely, her slightly freckled nose becoming a dark pink.

"That came out totally wrong", Paige said, her voice trembling a little in embarrassment, "I really didn't mean it like that, Emily."

"She's not like that."

Her voice was steely and firm. She knew Paige had no reasons to like Spencer, but the permission-comment was completely wrong and unfair. Especially now, with everything Spencer was going through because of her, just because she was trying to help her.

"It came out wrong."

"You don't know her."

Paige sighed in defeat.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

She sounded so terribly apologetic Emily felt guilty, knowing she was being too hard on Paige, too hard on everybody, too hard on herself. Too hard on Spencer as well, and that hurt the most, that really hurt the most.

She looked down to her knees and her hands, unable to meet either the sight of water or of Paige right now.

"It's okay, don't worry about it", Emily mumbled, and it was her own voice that was trembling now, "but it's not her fault I quit. She's trying every way to get me back to swimming."

Paige shook her head in what appeared to be a slight nod, still looking apologetic.

"I know you're great together", she mumbled too, strangely nervous. "Every time I see you guys together… I mean, I wasn't saying it was her fault you quit."

Suddenly realizing her posture was completely rigid and tense, Emily tried to relax her muscles a bit, moving her shoulders and leaning back on the seat, lifting her boots to the backrest in front of her in yet another uncivilized gesture.

She really needed to play another sport.

A solitary one which would keep her away from opening her mouth.

"I just don't want anybody thinking", Emily said, not sure why she was talking about this to Paige, "you know, that I decided to focus on my grades because of her. It's not like that."

"No, I didn't…", Paige tried to reply, sounding confused, "I didn't assume anything like that, Em. She's just the type of person who's always bossing people around so I was just trying to make a stupid joke."

"She's not always that bad."

"Really?"

There was a tinge of mockery in Paige's question.

"She just does everything better than everybody else", Emily explained, "and has very clear ideas about how to do it."

Paige raised her brows comically.

"That must be it."

"Hey."

The warning was matched by an assassin-killer look Emily had perfected during the last weeks in the library.

"I _agree_." This time Paige _looked_ and _sounded_ comical, almost as if she was fake-taking the oath on the Scouts badge, both lifting her shoulders and her brows in an all serious, solemn attitude. "I do."

"You better agree", Emily smiled, the tension relaxing, "cause it's the truth. And, anyway, what do you know? It's not like she bosses you around or anything."

"I did play field hockey for a while."

"That was years ago."

And Spencer had said Paige was violent in the field.

"She's famous around school for being The Boss everyone turns to", Paige added, "and she's also famous for getting the best grades and for being just _slightly_ obsessed about them."

"And she'll be famous for a lot of more things when she gets outta here."

"Yeah", Paige accepted, "I agree."

"And there's a reason why people turn to listen to her."

Paige wiggled her brows now.

"Oh-kay", she said, comically again, "you don't have to defend your Boss-Princess against the hungry jaws of the Evil Monster, cause I'm not attacking her."

Emily let out a brief laugh at the expression Boss-Princess. It did match Spencer somehow.

"Boss-Princess", she repeated, "I guess that'd make me the Servant-Prince. Or the Servant-Princess. Weird."

She wished she could be more of a servant – or of an assistant – lately. It all made her sad.

"I definitely think you're a princess."

Emily shot Paige a glance out of the corner of her eye. They had been joking about this while they looked at the pool again, but she somehow caught a slightly admiring, flirty tone in Paige's voice.

"She does know how to take care of herself though", Emily said, thinking about Spencer's qualities as Boss-Princess, "she's been doing it forever."

But not in the right way.

Man, why couldn't she just forget about everything and get herself back on track and go around with Spencer? She knew Spencer always needed someone by her side. It wasn't fair.

"It's not like she's easy to get to know."

Surprisingly enough, Paige was accompanying her in this brain-storming about Spencer.

"It's not that hard to know her."

"Maybe… if she actually likes you", Paige commented thoughtfully, her sneakers also on the front backrest, "which she does… meaning she likes _you_ , but not other people."

"She likes people."

Well, Emily couldn't really lie about _that_. People maybe, but Paige… Spencer didn't like Paige. That was true, it was too obvious to deny it and Paige was clearly aware of it.

"Maybe she does like some people", Paige responded, taking the route Emily had innocently laid out for her, "but she doesn't like _me_ and I'm people too."

Emily internally kicked her head and self-slapped.

"And do you like her?"

"I don't have anything against her", Paige claimed, sounding convincing, "she seems cool to hang out with and, you know, ballsy, and kind of interesting to talk to."

Ballsy.

Spencer was plenty of ballsy, among so many other things.

"She _is_ interesting."

"Well, tell her to talk to me", Paige dared, "or at least to say my name whenever we see each other."

It was Emily's turn to sigh in defeat.

"Yeah, she doesn't really like you", she accepted, "but you can't totally blame her."

Paige seemed taken aback by Emily's admission.

"I don't blame her, I just don't really get it but…"

"She knows what happened."

All the color in Paige's face was abruptly sucked out, like a vampire had sipped all the blood out of her body in a single gulp. Not Emily's vampire, though.

"What exactly?"

"All of it."

It seemed impossible for Paige's blood to slip away even more, but it happened.

" _All_ of it?"

Emily nodded in confirmation, guessing Paige was so terrified because _all_ meant the drowning incident was included as well. Or maybe it was something else.

"Did you tell her I apologized for everything I did?"

"Yeah", Emily confirmed too, "but you know…"

"No wonder she doesn't like me."

Emily felt guiltier now.

"Well, it's not only that, it's…"

The rest.

The rest, meaning they dated for a few days and Spencer hated it (but she couldn't tell Paige about that).

The rest, meaning Emily said Paige's name when she was forced to mention the best kisser she'd ever kissed, and Spencer hated that too. (But she couldn't tell Paige about that either.)

The rest, meaning Spencer could sometimes be excessively judgmental and hard on people. But she wasn't going to tell Paige about that either because, as judgmental as Spencer could get, she was also the softest, warmest person Emily knew, and no one needed to hear about Spencer's imperfections which weren't real imperfections. Spencer was imperfectly perfect; or perfectly imperfect. And no one understood that better than Emily.

Really, did everything backfire in life?

Words, kisses, actions, non-actions too.

"I'm sorry", Paige blurted out, "I'm just… I'm sorry."

Shit.

Everything she was saying was making Paige feel bad. And here Paige was just trying to talk to her in all kindness and support, and all she did was crash her with her moodiness and her ghostliness once and again.

"No", Emily refused to accept the unnecessary apology, "it's fine, we're good now, we've been good for months."

Paige lowered her feet to the ground and turned to lock her gaze with Emily in a way that was too intense for Emily's actual liking. Her brown eyes were covered with changing lights and shades, like they were sending messages in different frequencies and tones.

"I know."

"Everything's fine", Emily reassured, "Spencer's just…"

Protective.

"I was such a moron to you."

"You were going through a really rough time."

"Emily?"

"Yeah."

"I never told you this, you know", Paige said, and Emily felt her body tensing up, "but after all we talked and all you said to me, you actually gave me the guts to talk to my parents, and I did."

A confession.

Emily wasn't expecting it.

"You told them you're gay?"

"Yeah, I came out."

Suddenly Emily understood where all that outburst of confidence and easiness was coming from. Paige felt new and clean in her true skin.

It had happened to Emily too.

It was good news.

"You did?"

"Yeah, during the summer", Paige explained, "I was gonna tell you, but you know…"

"How did it go?"

"Better than I'd thought", Paige continued, sounding almost relieved, "I mean, my dad still behaves like gay people shouldn't exist and all, but he didn't kick me out or anything. And my mom's kinda cool about it, keeps asking for girls who call and stuff."

"That's… so great."

"Seriously though, thank you."

"I didn't do it… It was you."

"Well, I did it for… because of you, in a way."

Paige blushed again, unable to continue the explanation, and Emily's skin darkened violently in response. Oh, did she hate to blush, especially when it was going to be noticed.

"It wasn't really me, it was you", Emily repeated, "but thank you."

"No, thank _you_."

Emily held her breath while searching for the proper way out of thanking-and-blushing mode. But all she could think of doing was smiling her trademark shy-and-sweet smile and trying to look away to reduce the intensity of the moment. Coming out was a big thing. Especially when nobody else chose the moment for you. Especially when you had been hating yourself for being the person you were. So… she understood how big a thing this was for Paige, and why she would want to share it with a person who had also been scared to death to come out; not only that, with the person who had actually told her things would get better once she expressed the gay as naturally as she could. And that was why Paige had become so much more direct and spontaneous since the summer. It all made sense now.

"I'm so glad for you", Emily managed to say, "it's just great."

"And then you talked to the coach", Paige added, "so thank you again and again, Emily."

It seemed impossible to get out of thank-you mode, really, so Emily laughed.

"You already thanked me for that _twice_."

Paige smiled and looked down before returning her musical-brown gaze to Emily.

"How do you do it?", she asked, "you're always doing the right thing, always helping everybody, including me."

The blush had been fading away, but now Emily's skin darkened even more. She knew Paige was exaggerating her feelings of appreciation and she also had an idea as to why she was doing it, and she had to stop it already, but she couldn't really avoid the expanding blush.

She decided to be honest even if she risked sounding too sharp.

"Can we skip all the thank-yous and the you're-so-wonderful parts?"

Paige let out a dry, nervous laughter.

"Yeah", she agreed, "you don't really like them, do you?"

"Are you kidding? I hate them."

Paige nodded in acceptance, but kept staring in a way that seemed far too intense.

"I wish I'd fought harder for you", she suddenly said, "Spencer's lucky to have you."

Oh, god.

No.

This had to stop.

"It was for the best", Emily stated firmly, "and I'm even luckier to have _her._ "

People didn't see it, did they? Some of them did see (Toby saw) but really… people didn't know how lucky she was. Of course people saw Spencer's attractions. Of course they were drawn to her like you're drawn to a mountain or to the light of the moon when you're out in the dark. But they just didn't _see_ the whole of her, they didn't get it - they never would.

But she knew.

It was for the best because she got the best out of everything that could ever happen. Spencer was the big prize. Spencer was… She hadn't even found a way to deal with all the different things Spencer was. She was still trying to find that way, to be the best version of herself (and was miserably failing lately). Emily Fields: ghost. But a ghost who was struggling to reach out for the best inside of her, against all odds, infinity and beyond.

There was a meaningful silence between them until Paige decided to speak once more.

"I'm not trying to hit on you or anything."

Apparently, she had just realized her words could be interpreted that way.

Emily nodded emphatically, wishing it'd be the end of it.

"I would if you were single", Paige risked cockily, "but you're not… so, seriously, I won't."

Okay.

Breathe.

Get the blush out of the way.

Speak clearly.

"I'm totally and very happily taken." Emily tried to sound as firm as possible, although it was so awkward to actually talk like this. She'd never had to do it before. "So… you know, it's better if you don't…"

If you stop it.

"Got it", Paige smiled, "not happening. Really."

"Cool."

"Seriously."

"Okay."

Awkward.

They sat quietly and looked at the pool while the minutes passed and Emily thought about standing up and leaving.

"I should get going."

Emily finally found the words to inspire her ass to move. And then her ass moved and she stood up. Sending a soft glance to Paige that was also brief enough to impose enough distance, sending a more hurtful glance to the estranged friend the pool had become, she started walking towards the door until she realized she still had the keys.

Stopping, she turned around towards Paige, who was still sitting on the bench.

"The keys", she said, "I should give them to the new captain."

"Keep'em. Nobody knows about them."

Emily nodded, sort of accepting to share that secret with Paige.

She was starting to walk away when Paige's voice sounded in the ample space.

"Emily."

She turned around again.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you another question? You can say no."

Dread and tension invaded Emily's body. She hoped this wasn't about hitting on her or about thanking her again. She'd been clear enough.

"I really should go."

"It's not… It's not bad. Promise."

Emily crossed her arms, defensive, but stayed in the room waiting in expectation.

Paige stood up and approached her silently, stopping far enough to leave no doubt about her respect for Emily's personal bubble.

"If you quit… you know, if you quit the team so you'd feel better", she started, "but you're not feeling better… cause everyone can see that."

"I'm not that bad."

"I haven't asked the question yet."

Emily widened her eyes at Paige's cocky response as Paige struggled with the words she wanted to get out.

"What I wanna say is that you're here", she continued, "so that means something. And you told me you're missing it, and you're also looking so sad, so _not_ okay, Emily."

Emily batted her lashes in clear impatience.

"So?"

"So why don't you just come back to the team?", Paige finally asked. "It's just that easy."

Emily looked down and grunted in annoyance, no hiding place for her now. At least this topic was less awkward than the other one.

"Isn't that the same question you already asked and I already answered a while ago?"

Wow.

She did sound so edgy lately, it even reached her own ears, leaving her too startled and perplexed for words. However, Paige didn't flinch or hesitate this time.

"Yeah, I guess", Paige admitted, "but it has a different formulation now."

Emily smiled faintly despite the annoyance she felt, looking away at the pool, the space she shared with Paige besides the coming-out trouble and fear, the place they both loved.

It used to be easy.

It used to be her safety net.

"I can't."

Tears finally reached Emily's eyes in waves that she fought to hold back. Her guard was down. They had talked a lot about different things… personal things. She had come to the pool, that was the truth, it was her fault. And now her guard was down.

She didn't know how to keep lying about her situation anymore.

"But why?"

Emily shrugged and blinked repeatedly.

"I just can't."

Paige nodded, trying to look understanding in all the confusion.

"You mean you can't tell."

"I mean I just can't. But thank you for trying to help."

There again: thank-you mode on repeat.

Giving her back to Paige, moving away towards the door, Emily felt like escaping from the space that used to be her strong, safety place in the direction of the unknown. Who was she now? Who was Emily Fields? Besides this person who sounded so edgy and moody all the time. Besides this person who was afraid to hold Spencer back. She was afraid to hold Spencer back, to make Spencer fall behind just because she herself wasn't being able to keep up the pace. Spencer, who was destined to great things, who was running from one place to another in search of A, and Emily couldn't even _assist_ her or keep her safe. Not only that: Spencer, who kept offering to tutor her when she hardly had time to do everything she needed to do, everything she always did (because it was Spencer and Spencer did everything; and because it was senior year; and because Spencer was going to be famous). Spencer, who kept worrying about Emily's scholarships and studies and swimming options, who kept trying to instil a different, more reasonable decision in her, but didn't even consider confronting her in fear of a fight (but since when was Spencer afraid of a confrontation?), or maybe in fear of hearing Emily in that edgiest, meanest turn, of seeing her ugliest face. No wonder. That was the reason why Emily was keeping silent about the team and her classes, so Spencer wouldn't have to listen to this awful version of herself that left her perplexed.

This had been a debacle but she'd have to be back to the pool and try once again.

"Wait", Paige called, not giving up yet. She was a hard one, that was for sure. "One more thing."

Another turn-around, this time when Emily was so close to the door.

"You finally want the keys?", Emily asked, the battle against her tears already won, "I knew you'd make a good captain."

"No", Paige said, sounding deadly serious as she walked closer to Emily. "Listen, if you ever need someone to talk to or someone to go swimming with, whatever the time, even if you don't wanna come here, even if you need to go somewhere else, you just call me, okay?"

The offer surprised Emily.

"Yeah."

"I'm serious", Paige insisted, "call me. I'm a friend and I mean it."

Did she mean it?

Emily wasn't blushing now and wouldn't blush anymore, she was just trying to come to terms with the fact that she might have another friend who was willing to help and couldn't anyway. A friend who obviously had a crush on her, feelings for her, who wanted her back in more than a way. A friend Spencer despised. A friend who was also a swimmer. A swimmer like her. The new team captain. The old team captain.

Emily hugged herself with her arms, closing her own circle, holding her own walls.

"You mean it?", she asked, because she couldn't think of anything else to say. "For real?"

"I mean it. I won't try anything. Promise."

Promise.

Words.

Emily knew words sometimes weren't good enough, so this time it was her who locked eyes with Paige, deciding to confront the situation with her once and for all.

"If I actually call you", she made clear, "I won't take anything else _but_ a friend."

"I know."

"I need you to get the message."

"I get it", Paige assured, "and it's loud and clear. I just wanna help you like you helped _me_."

Emily looked back to the pool, tears welling up all the time inexplicably. Her guard had really gone down once she'd stepped into this place.

"Good."

"You'll call me?"

"Maybe."

Yet another turn-around (the final one?) and Emily prepared to leave for the library, her post in the war. Later tonight she'd be meeting Spencer, Caleb, Hanna and Aria for a secret meeting about another clue; this time it was about Alison. But something stopped her for a second: the constant, repetitive thank-you mode. She might be at her worst, but she still knew what it meant to have someone try to get the best out of you.

Paige stood frozen in the same position, watching her leave.

Emily wondered if friendship was really an option, because she recognized that kind of look.

"Thank you."

And with that Emily finally left, not really knowing if she'd actually take Paige's offer for help.

An hour later and miles away from Rosewood High, Spencer was getting into her SUV to drive in a hurry to Aria's house. She had just left a meeting with the debate team and had to rush to Aria's to attend to their secret conspiracy to organize Emily's party _before_ the _other_ secret meeting with Emily and Caleb happened at her own house. Things were getting complicated about the b-day plan because Emily had suddenly requested to go to Philadelphia (or _anywhere_ that was far enough from Rosewood) for dinner, and obviously Spencer had had to comply; but the party was going to happen anyway. She'd just have to organize everything in perfect timing; that was her specialty, so she had everything sort of under control. Then she had to cope with Aria, who was insisting on offering a unique present for Emily, and with Hanna, who agreed with Aria just to tease Spencer. As if that wasn't enough, she also had to deal with the Fields: they were coming to Rosewood and had asked her to be present for an intervention-dinner she had no idea about how to handle. So everything was a big (but somewhat controlled) mess now.

But she could do it.

All of it.

No problem.

That was the one good thing about being a Hastings: it played out useful when organizing schedules and plans.

On the road to Aria's, she sped up on the accelerator when she heard the phone beeping in her coat. Waiting until a red light came on, she looked for the cell in her pocket, guessing it'd be Aria or Hanna asking her to hurry up and die in a car accident. They didn't have a lot of time for everything and Spencer was already _almost_ late.

But it was the blocked, anonymous enemy.

What a big surprise.

Long time, no see.

" _She's not talking to you but she's talking to her. Sorry to rain on your love parade, Miss Not-So-Perfect Girl-or-friend._ – A."

She.

Emily, obviously.

Her: no idea.

(She hoped for Hanna or Aria, but somehow knew it wouldn't be any of them. Why waste a text on them?)

Girl-or-Friend: that was kind of imaginative.

Yet – a painful blow first to the heart, then to the head, and the traffic light was already green.

Anyway she opened the attachment, she was too curious to know who the girl was. What else could she do? It always worked this way. A sent the text, sometimes a picture, they all crashed into it and got trapped like flies into a sticky web.

Emily.

Smiling.

Shy.

The girl was Paige McCullers.

She was smiling too.

Shy.

But confident?

Background.

Spencer recognized the space: the pool. A meeting between the captains? A meeting about the team, information that had to be passed on from one to another about… whatever? Or maybe Emily had gone there and then had run into Paige accidentally.

Paige.

The psycho without a name.

Spencer looked closer at her. Yes, she knew… it was the kind of thing they always did when a picture was received in one of their cell phones. Paige's hair was longer. It seemed kind of wet. From swimming? From the shower after swimming? It was longer and had an orangish brownish shade to it. She'd never noticed her hair was longer. She never really looked at her, but actually, now that she _was_ looking at her, she did seem cuter than the last time Spencer noticed her months ago, ages ago. Cuter, somewhat softer, somewhat also… Ugh, she couldn't find the exact, precise word.

Still – a freak.

A freak who was smiling confidently to her girlfriend - her girlfriend smiling back in all her gorgeous, mysterious shyness.

A stab to the heart.

A rush of blood to the head.

The car behind her blew the horn in anger and then passed to the other lane.

And they were talking, right? That was what A said.

Watch out.

It's A.

This was A's game.

Spencer was smarter than this.

Smart-smart.

Smart-ass.

Know-it-all, clever Spencer Hastings had to admit she was getting pissed off, but she wouldn't make it easy for A to play the ball of jealousy in her _field_.

She drove the car to an empty space, leaned back on the seat.

Heart.

Beating.

Why Paige, of all people?

Why her?

What were they talking about?

Emily.

Emily in the pool.

Emily looking sad - smiling shyly in the pool. Why didn't she know Emily was going to visit the pool today? Did that mean she was thinking about going back to the team? Were they talking about that? About the team? At least Paige wasn't getting deadly looks from Emily if they were talking about that. Great. Great. Emily. Emily was going back to the team. If that was the reason, then it was good. Even if it meant she was talking with Paige McCullers about it. Was that what they were talking about? And was it working?

The text was pissing her off.

Resolute, adamant, clever Spencer Hastings wrote a text to Aria informing her of a slight delay and asking if she'd already invited Paige McCullers to the party. Aria said no, she was going to do it tomorrow. Spencer replied not to worry, she'd be the one to talk to her.

And she would indeed talk to her.

Paige.

The psycho with a name.

Spencer needed to look her in the eye and know what was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some rewriting of 2x21 and 2x24 regarding Paige's character.


	31. Do No Harm

Spencer ran towards the girls' locker rooms after finishing hockey practice.

They had two classes together, but she decided to wait until they both finished practice in the afternoon. Sometimes she caught a glimpse of her in the lockers. It wasn't like she actually paid attention to her; she hadn't even noticed the way she was wearing her hair long; the clothes she was wearing were definitely different too, more stylish, worn with a careless, arrogant edge, as if it was an affirmation of a new self; not the kind of want-but-can't skirts and blouses she used to wear years - even months - ago. When did she start to change? What did it mean? Why was it suddenly important? Everybody changed over high-school anyway. Talk about Hanna: Hefty Hanna, Hanna Banana (all the stupid nicknames people gave), but Hanna was her own person now, nothing similar to the one she used to be back when Alison was alive and yet – she remained herself, always beyond the image of the day. Talk about change, talk about Mona Vanderwaal: the dorky freak with the popularity wish, trying so hard to fit in, one could say almost with a psychotic streak (now that Spencer came to think about it); the same Mona Vanderwaal who wanted to fall under Alison's spell (besieging the company of the chosen ones, wanting to belong with them) resembled now a disco ball of lights and colors, still trying too hard, in Spencer's opinion, yearning for attention in strident screams that drove Spencer crazy. Maybe it was because Spencer couldn't really stand Mona's voice; more generally her appearance and overall irritating behavior. However, yes, talk about annoying, talk about dorky freaks, talk about Spencer Hastings herself, as Hanna would point out were she here with her blond-bomb caustic wisdom (she was here anyway, talking to Spencer in Spencer's mind): not that Spencer had ever been considered a loser by the school population (probably by virtue of the Hastings name, although she was certain Alison had everything to do with it too, in a sense she'd grown to dislike so much it scared her) but Spencer used to be only bones and glasses before becoming the epitome of sexy - or at least classy -  _chic_. _Chic_ was Spencer's thing: Hanna ultimately agreed on it, even if the French touch to the word would certainly escape her. Hanna, Hanna. Hanna was funny. Hanna was loyal. Hanna was true - somehow transparent. Spencer was sort of loving Hanna so much these days, after their peace treaty. Because, really, what could she do without Hanna, where would she be? Everything she knew about Emily now, mostly it was thanks to Hanna, at least until she received the wonderful text and the attached picture yesterday afternoon.

There was Aria too.

Talk about _her_ with the pink highlights and the rocker pose (Aria was always cute, though, no matter how punk she made the effort to look, it was always pointless). Talk about Emily. Yes, they could talk about Emily too: Emily Fields (Em, just for friends; Em, the name reserved for the close circle of intimacy). Emily was never given a nickname, never tried hard to fit in or to stand out, never cut her own self to fit a funkier image and to impress the world. She didn't need that. Her presence – at first so shy but still gentle, later challenging and somewhat daring (but was it like that only for Spencer?), with that air of mysterious mischief and hidden temper that remained guarded, saved for someone else to see and enjoy (that would be Spencer), a treasure of all sorts Spencer had found, a mystery solved at least for a while, although Spencer was still working on it, she'd be working on it all her life, that was what she was expecting to do, really, that was going to become her real profession, that was her job, that was _what she did best_. In any case, Emily's sole presence had always been enough: Before Coming Out Emily was (apparently) softer on the edges, but after the big event she displayed the unique capacity to be singularly sweet and strong, modest and proud, kind and sharp (her own version of sharp), all these delicate, subtle contradictions Emily was at the same time, all of them reconciled in the one single person who didn't have to make a fuss to _be_ herself, who didn't need to emphasize anything because it was already enough with being herself. Emily had always been interesting; at least for everybody, maybe not so much in her own view of things. Always a swan, the swan had grown to transform into a more lustrous type of swan when she changed, so basically Emily's swan grew into another swan and yet into another one and so on and so forth, altogether in a change of perpetual beauty that always repeated itself, swan after swan after swan. Yes, that was Emily Fields; _talk about her_. Spencer was here to talk about Emily Fields to a person whom she didn't really want to talk to at all; to a person who was apparently experiencing her own set of changes; more importantly, to a person who could be having an actual perspective into Emily's own sense of inner change.

Change.

Swan inside the swan - Matryoshka dolls - ordered in reverse.

Change happened in time: only Alison hadn't changed, for the obvious reasons. The rest – they had changed because they were alive. Even Paige McCullers was changing. Talk about freak, talk about psychotic (no, Spencer couldn't afford to think in these terms now that she had to carry out an actual conversation with her). Besides, it was senior year so it was only natural that Paige would also go through some changes like everybody else; she might be a freak but after all she was human too, and she was very much alive, another piece in the small chessboard at Rosewood High; she could have saved the change for college, had she been kind and considerate towards others, particularly Spencer, because Spencer didn't really have time to waste on Paige McCullers' changes right now; she had so much to do, so much to solve still. Change. Kind and considerate were not qualifications Paige would ever fit into; she would always be too rough, too misdirected regardless of how much she changed. Yet – the change. Spencer could smell it and Hanna would smell it too, in fact Hanna would _love_ to say what it meant. Hanna would _die_ to judge the style, to classify clothes into this or that category (Hanna was certainly good when it came to classifying clothes, if not other things) and give a conclusion to Spencer about their meaning. The conclusion about the person might not be entirely right, but the conclusion about clothes… that would be right for sure, because Hanna had an eye for clothes, that was her _field_ of expertise, right? So maybe Spencer should have consulted Hanna on this one. Not that Spencer cared about the meaning of clothes, not in her normal, regular life anyway, but it was true she did need to know – _right now_ – what had changed in Paige McCullers, the impact it was having, mostly if the conversation with Emily was about the team captainship or if it went further, deeper than that, if it reached the caves and curves of Emily's psychological condition these days; if it reached Emily in any way, to what extent, in what measure, in what specific sense; even if it'd been a conversation at all.

Change.

Change happened in time.

Time was flying so fast - Spencer didn't really have it, Emily was running out of it. But the change in Paige – it was clear. Caught in flashes with her sideways vision, they were details Spencer ignored like she ignored everything irrelevant (the world was filled with so many hints anyway, she had to discard certain things or she'd be forced to follow so many different paths, so many contradicting routes). However, they were recorded somewhere in her brain in case they would become useful, the way they had become useful today. It was all coming back to Spencer. These hints, these little pieces of a change-puzzle she didn't care about - breadcrumbs she could pick up with her beak of a mouth just to swallow - smoke signals to a destination willingly ignored. There was no way she was ever going to care about McCullers. No way. For many (valid) reasons. But Emily – that was a completely different matter. The certainty of Emily's importance required Spencer to acknowledge Paige McCullers; preferably in private, because she was going to hand her an invitation for a surprise party so no one would hear, especially people who weren't invited, especially people who shouldn't find out; especially Emily, the birthday girl, the self-repeating swan who was turning seventeen in some days. Seventeen swans, seventeen different ways to become a swan, to grow into one's own self.

Time.

It had been six months and nine days since they were dating.

It had been two months and eighteen days since Spencer had also turned seventeen.

_I probably fell at your feet the minute you were born_.

The minute you were born.

Emily had said those words to her but it had been the other way around. Spencer was born first, and hence Spencer fell at Emily's feet the minute _she_ was born. They didn't know it was the other way. Nobody knew. Spencer hadn't known for a long time.

When did she fall in love?

Time.

When did she fall _so_ hard she couldn't even breathe like the rest?

Spencer touched the pendant Emily gave her for her birthday (it was her, she said, meaning her heart). This was about Emily Fields, not about anybody else. Regarding Spencer's calculations, they barely had a month to do something about Emily's situation or things would start getting tough; which meant Spencer had about a month to finally get A's head and throw it inside her bag in order to show it to Emily. All of this, of course, also meant Spencer had to be careful not to mess the situation up. Including Paige McCullers.

It was a delicate subject.

Emily.

The team.

Emily.

Emily Fields.

An invitation.

To a party.

That was all.

This was not a chance for A to mess with her head.

There she was - dressed and ready to leave - the freak who was changing too, like everybody else in school.

The psycho with a name.

Why Paige?

Emily, why Paige?

Why couldn't you choose somebody else?

Spencer approached the distinctive figure in a panther-like manner, allowing herself to study the fresher sight of Paige, the last of the swimmers in the room which was now being invaded by the field hockey players. They would be going to the showers soon; not Spencer, though. Unfortunately, the conversation would be held in unequal terms, since swim practice had ended early today: a sweaty hockey player against a swimmer who had already gotten a shower and put on some clean clothes in that new style of hers… broken jeans and a white blouse, Spencer observed.

Too bad.

Spencer hated to have serious conversations before showering and changing, and a part of her was hoping for the duel of clothes, in case Hanna was ever asked an opinion.

Oblivious to the upcoming presence, Paige closed her locker and put a grey beret on, then took it off after trying it on a couple of times, obviously wanting to check her image in a mirror. Spencer knew the art of putting on a beret without a mirror was not dominated by all newcomers to the world of hats, and she slowed down her march through the crowd while examining the swimmer's struggle: Paige gave up and the beret was again thrown inside the locker whose door Paige swiftly closed in frustration. Oh, yes, McCullers, thanks for providing us with yet another proof of your character (or, rather, of the lack thereof); exactly as Spencer had thought, Paige would always be too rough, too misdirected, too easy to frustrate when grasping the invisible hold of a hat on the top of her head, when grasping anything invisible and still so delicate and soft it required either harsh resolve or timeless dedication - sometimes both - you can't do it, you don't have the skill.

Thanks for showing it to me once again - the change in you - McCullers.

Thank you _so_ much.

Almost hearing Spencer's thoughts, Paige abruptly turned around in search of the presence behind her.

(So much for panther moves… Spencer guessed she was back to dogs.)

The look Paige offered had surprise written all over it.

"Spencer."

Yes.

The one and only.

"Paige." Spencer forced the name out, followed by a small smile. "Hey."

It was probably the first time in years she actually put it out there and even Paige seemed caught in wonder at the sound of her name in Spencer's voice. It was so surprising she actually blinked twice and didn't answer a word, which once more put all the pressure on Spencer to initiate the conversation. Not that Spencer cared about pressure. She wasn't really willing to give it up; it was her specialty, so to speak, the ability to survive and excel when trouble breathed in her neck. Pressure. It was a way to live.

"Can we talk?"

The question was direct, forward. Knock-down eyes glistened on her face - the mission into work. 

Paige blinked a few more times, nodding.

"Sure."

Her skin paled as she spoke, which was certainly an interesting reaction.

"I mean, if you have time", Spencer assured, delightfully changing to a somewhat less aggressive approach, "I didn't mean to scare you."

But she was certainly enjoying the fact that Paige looked sort of scared.

"No, you didn't", Paige replied, this time hurriedly, "so what's up?"

Apparently they were getting casual. Paige still wasn't very good at covering up the surprise, though.

"It's about Emily."

The capacity for surprise was never-ending on a human face, and Paige widened her eyes in shock.

"Yeah, sure, okay", Paige managed to utter now, clearly confused, "what's…?"

"It's…"

Spencer stopped and looked around. Only a few of her own teammates were still in the room, picking up their stuff as they noisily headed towards the showers, which made Spencer conscious of the sweat staining her T and cooling on her forehead. She hoped she wasn't too smelly. She really wished for a change of clothes.

"Yeah?", Paige sort of asked, waiting in (pale) expectation. "So…"

Spencer leaned against the lockers, taking a second to observe the swimmer some more.

Pressure.

Then she decided to get into business.

"I'm not sure if you know", Spencer said, her eyes not leaving Paige, "but her birthday's coming in a few days."

"Really?", Paige exclaimed, apparently relieved. "Didn't know about it."

Spencer nodded, somehow relieved too.

So nobody had told her.

Which meant Emily hadn't told her either.

" _Really_ ", Spencer assured, unable to help herself from emphasizing the word with slight sarcasm, "it's happening, she's turning seventeen."

She had to bite her tongue not to throw in a smart-ass joke, pronounced in the most typical Hastings cutting fashion, about the amazing, unbelievable way time flew around them and seemed to carry them through. Surely every one of them was having a birthday every year. It couldn't be so difficult to understand because it was, well, a human reality.

Paige didn't show any reaction, except for an almost unperceivable eye-roll.

"When's it…?"

"Monday."

"Okay."

"Yep", Spencer confirmed, and she knew she might be enjoying the puzzlement that her presence was causing in Paige a little too much. Then she decided to go for the next bite. "I thought maybe she told you, or someone else did."

Another swimmer.

She had already invited a few of them, made them promise not to say anything to anybody. It was a top-secret party. But you never knew if people kept their word.

"No, I..." Paige looked totally clueless. "Nobody told me."

"Well, that's good", Spencer said, and it was _really_ good because it seemed completely true. Now she had to go for the invitation, which was the official reason for her being here talking to Paige. "Cause, you know, the thing is… we're throwing a surprise party for her."

"Yeah?"

"On Saturday", Spencer continued, "not on Monday. Obviously Monday's not a good day for a party."

"Obviously."

"Exactly", Spencer confirmed, realizing Paige's cautious attitude and partly applauding her for it, "and we're inviting the whole team."

Paige seemed to relax a lot after hearing Spencer's last words, finally grasping a meaning behind Spencer's actions.

"That's a great idea."

Spencer nodded, accepting the greatness of the idea, which had actually been a product of her own brainstorming with Hanna, later reinforced by Aria's immense capacity for optimism.

"So you're inviting the whole team?", Paige repeated, almost encouraging Spencer to spell out the last formality. "That's totally cool."

"Yeah, totally." Spencer paused for another second, deciding to advance the next step once the element of surprise was already gone. "We're… I mean Hanna, Aria and me."

Paige nodded in acknowledgment. She had understood who _they_ were.

Backup team.

Anti-A force.

True friends, chained to each other in tragedy and unexpected joy.

"We're trying to plan this so it's a complete surprise for her", Spencer explained, a little unwillingly now that she had to do all the talking. "You get the idea, right? It's friends and teammates… _ex_ -teammates," she corrected herself, then expanded on the explanation. "It's basically people who care about her or about whom she cares."

She _hated_ saying that sentence to Paige, but it was a must if she wanted to get her to relax and talk.

"Sure, I totally get it", Paige nodded emphatically, "we miss her so much."

The meaning of that _we_ was crystal clear too, Spencer thought. Enough of disguises. Enough of we. _They_ ought to miss Emily.

Because who wouldn't, really?

Who wouldn't?

"I know", Spencer confirmed as her only response, but then added some pressure, "you should definitely miss her."

You can't imagine.

But you lost.

"Yeah, we all do."

Monosyllabic and not very prone to elaborate her answers, Paige was making Spencer sweat for it. It posed a challenge, definitely; but that was what Spencer _did_ on a daily basis. However, she guessed there was no human way to avoid what was coming now. She had to formally lay out the invitation for McCullers. She had to tend a hand and do it nicely, even cordially. Too bad that wasn't her specialty in life.

Breathing in, Spencer let the (compressed) air of the room fill her lungs.

"So you're the team captain now", she obligingly spelled for Paige to hear, letting the air out, "which basically means you're invited to the party and all that. I'll text you the place and all the details later."

Was that nice enough to make her spill?

Paige smiled a little shy - a little arrogant too.

Arrogance.

You can't imagine what you're missing, McCullers.

Go drown someone else, see where that eventually takes you.

"Thanks", Paige obligingly replied, "I'll be there."

"One more thing."

"What should I bring for her?", Paige interrupted. "You know, as a present?"

"Uhm, it's…" The freak couldn't really expect help with _that_. "I don't know".

"Yeah, I'll just think of something."

"Sure, _anything_ will do", Spencer agreed, because she couldn't care less. But then she tried the whole being-nice pose again. "Just bring yourself."

A thin smile sort of curled up in Paige's lips, leaning to the left.

"I'll be there."

"Great."

If she could only go to the point and get it over with.

"So I really need to ask you _not_ to mention anything", Spencer warned, trying to keep her tone soft, "not even to the other swimmers… just in case, you know, cause it's important she doesn't find out."

Paige nodded repeatedly, again a little too emphatically.

"I won't say a word."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Spill.

It.

Now.

This girl -  _this freak_.

Spencer forced another smile. At this point she didn't even care if it looked nauseatingly false.

"So how's the captain thing going?"

The attempt at small talk sounded so awkward Paige widened her eyes for the second time.

"Everything's going really good." Paige answered so slowly it seemed unnatural, since she usually spoke really fast. "Although, as I said, we really miss having Emily around."

No wonder.

The universe missed Emily.

Matter missed Emily, _water_ missed Emily. The void missed Emily. The Higgs boson missed Emily. The earth missed Emily. The stars, the moon, the sun missed Emily.

Spencer missed Emily.

And Emily missed Emily too.

That was the reason behind the party. That was the mission - the task - the plan Spencer had to carry out. It had to work out.

"That's why we're throwing the party", Spencer explained, ""so she can, you know…"

"She'll have fun."

Spencer forced the words out anyway.

"It's important for her to know you guys care about her."

It felt nauseating, somehow. To _share_ thoughts, feelings, worries that were true.

She should have brought Aria.

Aria, the friendly one.

Good cop, bad cop.

Sharing information about Emily with Paige McCullers was something Spencer realized she had to do or else she'd have to either leave with her hands empty or sit Paige under a flood of light and directly subject her to different methods of interrogation and torture. Leaving was not an option right now, because the plan had to work out. Confrontation and hostility would only make Paige more cautious and tense around her. Basically that meant there was only one way to do this: she had to keep offering peace signs and tending nice hands and false smiles to the irrelevant enemy.

Paige seemed to be slightly aware of the significance of Spencer's peace offer, because she raised her brows and opened her mouth, but her own words took a second to come out.

"We're totally screwed without her."

_Yadda yadda yadda_.

Come on now.

"She's good."

"She's the best."

All kinds of violent urges assaulted Spencer after hearing the superlative in another person's mouth.

"Definitely." Her voice got raspier with the increase of tension. "Not that I know that much about swimming."

"I think you know enough."

Fuck the fuck off.

Of course she knew enough. And she was getting tired of this game, especially because – amazingly – she was losing at it.

"That's what I always say", she agreed, starting to feel like she was talking to one of her A-suspects and not to the irrelevant psycho-freak, "but it's always good to learn more, especially when it's interesting… or practical." She paused, trying to discern what the hell she was saying. "Or healthy."

Going in circles - getting nowhere.

_This game_.

This cat-and-mouse game, was she the only one playing it? Was she playing it only in her imagination? She was no cat, but there was no way she was going to play mouse to Paige. But to herself… that was another thing. She was so focused on the A-hunt lately, so obsessed with everything that was being kept hidden from her, sometimes she thought she was at war with herself and a thousand imaginary enemies, sometimes she wasn't sure she was playing all her cards right.

All her cards lying upside on the table, all her bare-naked cards.

Did Paige see them, did she see through her like A had done?

There was a very brief silence while Paige tried to get her own ideas about the game clear.

"It's really good you're helping her to come back to the team", Paige finally said, still sounding cautious but looking straight back in a very direct manner, "she told me you're trying really hard."

Gotcha, freak.

S _he told you_.

Information.

"She was born to do this, it's not something she can just quit and leave behind", Spencer replied thoughtfully, controlling the tension in her body and in her voice. "When did she talk to you?"

The interrogation could now begin.

"I ran into her yesterday", Paige informed, "I told her we miss her here and we want her back."

"You did?" She tried to sound both surprised and appreciative, although really she just wanted Paige to keep spilling until there was nothing relevant left. "That's good."

"She was here and I found her, so I told her", Paige said, "I figured she needed to hear it."

Aha.

It had been an accident, a fortuitous encounter.

Yet – Spencer wouldn't even know about Emily's visit to the pool if it weren't for A's text. Now it was Paige who was (finally) informing her of other details of that visit. A and Paige. Messengers of news. And people warned not to kill the messenger… as though it was actually possible to repress the temptation, as though the messenger didn't actually deserve it, at least in A's case (no, she wasn't really going to murder Paige; she was too irrelevant in Spencer's complicated world).

"You figured well", Spencer reinforced, "she does need to hear it."

Paige breathed out audibly, a clear sign of her own relief of tension.

"She told me you're trying to help her", she repeated, "but she couldn't say with what."

With A.

Not that Emily was letting her help with much else.

"It's a rough time for her."

"That's what I sorta gathered, yeah."

"Right."

For some reason Spencer felt something cracking, breaking inside her, and she had to look away for the first time since the conversation began.

Not here, not now.

Not certainly in front of Paige.

Spencer tightened her messy ponytail with her fingers, taking her time to place a loose strand of sticky hair behind her ear.

Iron heart - frosting up with too many fears.

Trouble breathing in her neck.

It was all about pressure.

She stared back, her eyes the best weapon in every interrogation she ever had to execute.

"Is it that bad?", Paige asked when their eyes met again. "Whatever's going on with her."

No, no.

Information had to go around the other way.

"It'll be all right."

"I hope so", Paige said. "I offered to help… I mean, in case she wants _my_ help."

Spencer felt her jaw clench and her teeth grit.

"Any help's appreciated."

That was her reply, however. Because it was true, because it was for Emily.

Paige seemed to relax even more after those hardly gritted words were muttered, somehow.

"Is she finally going to join the track team?"

So that was information too.

Spencer tried her best to cover up her own sense of puzzlement. She had no idea what Paige was talking about.

"I'm not sure yet."

"She told me she was thinking about it but needed…", Paige trailed off, then rephrased, "I mean, she was gonna ask you about the team."

"She's still thinking about it."

Great.

Great, Emily, great.

_The track team?_ When did that happen? Why didn't she know about it? 

"I told her it'd be a good idea if she needed the exercise."

"Yeah, it's a good idea", Spencer croaked, "but, you know, it's still important that she comes back _here_." She decided to clarify the exact meaning of her words. "To the swim team."

"Yeah, totally."

"The scholarships."

"It's senior year", Paige agreed, almost as if they were singing in the same tune, "I get it."

"Exactly."

"And she loves swimming."

"Right." Spencer paused, deciding to go for another direct question. "Did she mention anything about coming back to the team?"

Paige leaned against her locker, and Spencer could see her face opening up like one of those old books whose yellow-gold paper-thin pages Spencer managed to separate and disentangle whenever she went to an antique bookstore.

One more victory, one more win.

So many.

So many.

"She said she misses it", Paige shrugged, "but she also said she's not coming back."

That sounded a lot like Emily's code for yes and no, indeed.

"Sounds like her."

Paige nodded slowly.

"It felt like she was afraid of something happening if she actually came back", Paige added, "like something's out there to hurt her."

Not something -  _someone_.

Spencer nodded too, in agreement, her eyes shutting down every emotion because that information was secret, no matter what Paige thought she could do to help.

"Times are tough, as I said, but she'll come back."

"I'm hoping she won't be really able to stay away for long."

Hope.

It breeds eternal misery. But what did love breed? What did love _do_ to people?

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping too." It seemed all the relevant information was out there. There was nothing else to say. "I should get a shower, everybody's gonna leave."

She touched her uniform to show the sweat.

Paige seemed to get the message, even if she was waiting expectantly for Spencer's next words.

"Hurry up or they'll throw you out."

Spencer raised her left brow like the master of brow-raising she had already become.

"They'll _never_ throw me out."

Paige actually smiled at that like it was funny (although Spencer was completely serious about it) and Spencer returned the shadow of a real smile, the arrogant one (which she also mastered and that was definitely more arrogant than Paige's own rendition), turning around for the showers. She didn't feel that much confidence inside, though. Her iron heart was feeling a little too heavy, even if she had managed to get all the information out.

Somehow.

For some reason.

There was something heavy and sad in her heart.

"Spencer."

She heard Paige calling out her name and, when she turned around again, she realized there was some kind of secret understanding between them after the conversation they'd had. It wasn't good. It wasn't bad either. But there was an understanding: Paige seemed to believe, and now Spencer's hands were tied to _that_ meaning, which she refused to call an alliance.

She raised both her brows, in questioning fashion.

"Thanks for inviting me", Paige said, "to the party."

"Sure."

"Spencer", Paige called again, and actually walked a couple of steps in her direction, "she talks about you all the time."

Somehow.

For some reason.

It was supposed to sound good, it was supposed to help, but that was precisely the reason it felt like a stab, and this one stuck deeper than A's text yesterday.

"I hope it's all good."

Her voice remained low and scratchy, her dignity, her sense of irony untouched. But her heart was sinking.

Why?

Emily, why, why, why?

Why everything? Why this person? Why did she even have to listen to the offer of _consolation_  in this person's voice?

"It's all really good", Paige assured, "you should know that."

"I know that", Spencer replied flatly, "I keep track of everything."

Almost.

Her omniscience was both due to her own capacity for knowledge as well as to A's gross blackmails and strategies. A would never leave her without knowing something that could hurt her. A would never miss the chance to hurt them.

"I get you're not my biggest fan", Paige suddenly added, raising the stakes of honesty now that she believed they had a personal understanding, "and you probably have your reasons but, you know, I mean well."

Spencer stared back in silence.

The first time she wasn't speaking with second or third or fourth meanings (sometimes she actually lost track of how many layers of significance she was trying to offer in a single sentence) was the first time Paige seemed to get so many meanings behind. She did keep track of everything, and keeping track of it she just knew Paige posed no real threat, could do no real damage to her relationship. Maybe she could even help Emily. Who knew? Still – there was something wrong, there was something bothering Spencer. But it wasn't the time to come clean with Paige. Why would she do it? Why tell her she would never forget, much less forgive, what she had done to Emily even if Emily herself had forgiven her for it, and not only that, even if Emily actually _understood_ half of why it'd happened? _Reasons._ She didn't even care if she had reasons or not. There was no cleansing honesty between them. There was nothing, nothing was ever going to happen between the two. Only Emily; only Emily's needs; only the mission to find out what Emily did, what Emily said which _for some reason_ she was not doing, she was not saying in front of Spencer, Hanna or Aria. Beyond that: there was _nothing_. An immense, devastating abyss of nothingness. That was all. Spencer was far from _not_ being Paige's fan; it was much worse than that.

"I mean well too." It was all she had to say about it and, surprisingly, it was also true, at least when it came to Emily. "But you know what they say about good intentions."

Paige frowned, indicating she didn't really know what Spencer meant.

"Not really." She seemed thoughtful about it. "That they're different from actions?"

That was clever, McCullers.

"The road to hell is paved with them."

Paige blinked, recognizing the expression in the form of Spencer's pessimistic insight.

"Right", she accepted, but then seemed ready to show some personal insight too, "but you have them too, right? You just said that."

"Good intentions?", Spencer repeated for confirmation. "I do."

"So that's… good."

"Yeah, maybe", she conceded, "I'll text you about the party, probably tomorrow."

And with that ultimate display of plain, cool confidence, Spencer left for the showers, where she cleaned off not only the sweat but also the sinking feeling of being once again a winner who was somehow, for some reason losing a game of which she didn't even know the name.

A's game.

As much as she hated to realize it, A's text had managed to open a hole into her brain. Because no matter how much Paige actually ignored Emily's situation, no matter how much Paige was harmless _even_ if she ever tried to pull a move with Emily, no matter how much Spencer knew it wouldn't work and Paige was irrelevant except as a potential helper in terms of Emily's comeback to the team, in terms even of Emily's mental health if Emily actually chose her as a confidante, Spencer was pissed, Spencer was sad, and A was right. Emily was not talking to her. But Emily was talking to Paige.

Talking about joining the track team.

Talking about missing the pool.

Talking about Spencer.

Talking.

She turned the faucet all the way to the right so the water would fall freezing cold on her head, and then stared at the thin rivers it created down her arms, her stomach and her legs, rivers that kept making strange, improvised turns while advancing against the goosebumped skin. Rivers of cold water breaking on her skin - an analgesic, a painkiller. That was help. That was consolation, not some stranger's, some enemy's words. That gave her the energy of an icy embrace, alone in the shower, alone perhaps in the world, all team players gone; she was preparing herself for the next battle, cooling down not only her muscles but the heat of her obsessions as well, the inflated flame of her heart, the intoxicating joy that kept avoiding her lately, that kept walking away. Cold rivers hardening the resolve for a new mission. Harsh resolve, timeless dedication, mirrors; love. What did she have to do today? Alison's double life. New clues, new leads. The birthday party. She had to pick up Aria and go pay for the café where they were going to throw the party. Duties, dreams, hopes. Plots.

Emily, Emily, Emily.

The name pounded against her chest in repetitive throbs ever since everything started going wrong.

The name whispered in her head in constant, sudden blows.

Emily.

Like she wasn't really able to sustain a complete thought except when it became so convoluted as one of those rivers running on her skin.

Emily.

Maybe Aria was right and she did need to say it or she was going to explode.

Yes, Aria was right.

She was getting mad.

After Paige.

It was foolish, perhaps. It was maybe proof of a jealousy she couldn't totally control, she didn't know why. Was that like Emily felt when she saw her in that picture talking to Wren? At least she'd never looked for Wren's company; she'd only used him to help Emily. To help Emily. Emily. Emily. But this – she couldn't get it. She was able to tolerate the freak's existence and even the freak's help, but not Emily's silence about it - about everything else.

Not silence, because silence was the only thing that would drive her completely crazy.

Emily knew.

She told her when they started dating.

She told her.

Aria was right.

Spencer rubbed off her eyes, scaring the threatening tears away, and got dressed in slow, efficient moves. Her phone beeped, and she wondered if it'd be A again, choosing to continue the offensive against her imagination, widening the hole in her brain, crawling up inside of her. She picked up the phone – truly wishing it'd be Emily and no one else, still the same childish, foolish sense of intoxication in love – and checked the text: it was Aria.

" _What's taking u so long? I'll be at the library with Em. Come pick me up._ "

Spencer wasn't sure it was the best moment to face her girlfriend.

On the other hand, it was always soothing, it was always healthy and safe to see Emily.

How could she even doubt it?

This was so absurd.

She was giving too much space to A. She was doing exactly what she couldn't do.

She didn't know what she was thinking.

Closing her locker and turning the lights off, the last of all players gone, Spencer left towards the library.


	32. A History Of Love

"Stop moving."

"Why?"

She could hear the boldness in her giggle as her fingers slowly trailed up the back of her knee.

"Cause it tickles there and you're gonna make me trip", Spencer explained, unable to contain a grin that was growing wider, the soft murmur of fingers on her wet skin racing up her blood. "I thought you wanted me to wash your hair."

"I did", she answered, "I do."

"Good girl."

There was a pause and the tickling of fingers began again along with the giggly voice in the closed space of the rectangular shower. This was a game she obviously enjoyed too much.

"You sure you want me to stop?", she asked, partly serious, partly mocking, "you're not really sounding like yourself."

Spencer poured a fairly big amount of the liquid tangerine-scented shampoo on the palm of her hand and started massaging Emily's head decidedly, trying to offer the impression that she was absolutely sure of what she was doing, although in truth this was the first time she had ever washed somebody else's hair. And this hair… it was so luminous and so gorgeously refulgent, it was like the star of hair - the queen of hair - it was an orgy for anyone with a hair fetish (not that she had one, but someone probably did), which basically meant a huge responsibility for Spencer as hair-washer. Besides, it was metaphorically one of her self-appointed dominions in Emily's carnal territory. She smirked at that. This hair she was washing (that she'd previously smacked with mud) belonged to her. Maybe that was why she'd totally gone for the hair outside in the lake. Apparently she had a destroy-and-fix kindergarten fetish with Emily's hair. But that sounded so weird – as well as, in a sense, sort of dangerous and, well, maybe not entirely sane. It wasn't as if she wanted to wear a wig composed of Emily's curtain of blackness. It was more that she constantly felt the need to sniff and nuzzle and touch and dig into it.

"I'm positive."

The fingers suddenly stopped their playful dance of tickles.

"Fine", Emily said, "you win."

"I always win."

"You always win, everybody knows that."

"You're earning points with me."

"Like I have  _more_  to earn."

Spencer chuckled at Emily's cockiness.

"There's always more to earn."

"Is that a challenge?"

The conversation somehow rang a bell. And here she thought Emily wasn't the competitive kind. It was foolish, really, to think that way of someone so used to competing (and winning) in such a demanding sport as swimming. Emily was competitive and loved a challenge. She just wasn't  _obsessed_  with it like the Hastings had been all their lives.

"You never know."

"I always know with you."

"I hope you do realize you're bordering on arrogant now."

She couldn't see her face completely, because Emily was sitting on the border of the tub, right below her, with her head lowered to facilitate the task, and Spencer could only see hair, hair everywhere, long dark hair being covered and sprayed across with shampoo lather, but she could swear Emily was weighting her words to actually discover if this new game she was trying in the shower could qualify as arrogance or as something even worse. If there was a name Emily Fields was not used to being called, that was arrogant, it was for sure.

"Shouldn't a Hastings love that?"

Well, there she was. She nailed it like she always did. Emily.

"I'm not your normal Hastings."

"But you're exactly  _my_  kind of Hastings."

Spencer burst out in another set of chuckles.

"That I am."

Emily smiled and softly placed a soft kiss on Spencer's stomach, which was entirely more distracting than the back-of-the-knee tickling.

Then she rubbed her eyes in discomfort, shutting them tight even harder.

"I just really need to hold on to something solid", she explained in a whisper, grabbing Spencer's knee from behind with her full palm, the idea to prove her point and to remain innocent and pure of intentions, "I feel like I'm falling all the time."

First the soft, albeit quick kiss on her skin. Second, the tightening of the hand around her knee.

The all familiar feeling of inner burning – melt from inside, explode in pieces of flesh and soul – conquered Spencer from head to toe, and her knees weakened in a dual movement of want. This was it. This was  _so_  it, it was dumbfounding, and for a couple of seconds she forgot to massage Emily's head with her careful, dedicated fingers.

"Says the girl with an equilibrium complex."

Her voice so low and raspy now it was impossible for Emily not to notice the change, Spencer joked to try to fool away desire. Then she reached out and startled Emily with the sudden rinse of water on her head, which only caused her to tighten her hold on Spencer's knee.

"Hey!", she protested, high-pitching, "can't you give a warning?"

Another burst of vivid laughter came out of Spencer's throat.

"Water's coming, Em", she warned mockingly, although it was too late now. "The girl who swims but can't take water on her head." She made a dramatic pause. "The girl who can't close her eyes in the shower without needing to hold on to someone's leg. And to tickle it."

"You're too easy to tickle."

"I'm too easy, period."

"True."

They both broke into laughter at the same time, and the fingers started trailing up her thigh again.

"Em", Spencer called, "stop it."

"It's… I don't even know what I'm doing that it's making you so nervous."

Not buying it for a second, Spencer paused to take Emily's hand and place it down her knee. It wouldn't be so bad if the hand tickled her calf.

"Just hold on there, okay?", Spencer proposed."You should be able to keep yourself solid with the lower part of my leg. And you perfectly know what you're doing."

"I thought I had rights to your whole leg."

Oh, again with the ownership thing, the possessive streak. Spencer knew where they were headed, but she wanted to wash Emily's hair first, and to do it right. It was not the destination, it was the journey that was fun. And the destination was also fun.

Everything.

Everything.

"You have so much sand in your hair it's gonna take me centuries to wash it properly."

"And that would be your fault."

"Which is why I need to do it right, so I can fix it."

Emily didn't answer, she just obediently grabbed both of Spencer's calves and made space for her own naked body to lean even closer to Spencer's. One more step and it would be too late. Her breath beat in rhythmic blows against her skin, and soon it would be too late, and soon the game would be about resisting the urge to get there, to their destination, it already was about that, so Spencer focused on extricating the gravel and the mud from the silky, feisty hair of her lover, of her one true love, of the one who was hers and to whom she completely belonged.

Walking in long, quick steps, Spencer smiled at the image that had been fossilized in memory.

They had kissed and then Spencer had tripped, exactly like she feared because she was the one being tempted and the one standing up in the shower, and then Emily had tripped too but they had kept going anyway.

She missed her.

They had made love.

Even though the sun was already disappearing behind the earth, the sky dyed in an ugly Pennsylvania gray, Spencer's heart warmed up to the sight of her mind as much as to the view her eyes spotted while approaching the medium-sized concrete building of the library, the temple of knowledge and sacrifice, where Aria was supposed to be waiting for her in the company of Emily. Instead of finding them intensively cramming in one of the library desks, Emily and Aria were leaning against the wall outside, both gesturing in what appeared to be soft, conspiratorial murmurs and winks against each other, the bright, nervous expression on Aria's face matching the slightly somber, more serious one on Emily's, who nonetheless was wearing one of her perfect coy, knowledgeable smiles. Emily and Aria: the friendly ones, the truly nice ones, waiting for brainy Spencer under the rapidly cooling weather of a crowning autumn.

Emily and her hair.

Emily and the most recent absence of games, the lack of any spoken words.

Emily.

Spencer was getting closer to the prey, she could still figure this one out.

She always won.

She always got her way.

She could destroy and repair.

She was  _her_  kind of Hastings and no one else's.

It was precisely Emily who saw her first, and Spencer deeply sighed at the metaphorical realization that Emily would always see her first, no matter the distance between them or how different, sometimes even opposite, they were. If only she could state the same…

As if the slim, athletic body had heard her doubts and laments and wanted to (silently, as it was now) reassure her, Emily raised her hand and wavered ever so shyly, her face again illuminating the ugly afternoon. Was she still the cause of that? Spencer wanted to know. Was she? It was foolish and also potentially self-destructive to ask herself such questions as often as she was doing it these past days, but that was what love was doing to her right now, what she was doing to herself. But what was love? It seemed as stupid a question as the one she used to have about sex. Love was what she felt and what she did. Love was her now and also that day in the shower, in the lake, before the summer ended, back when the lake house seemed like a paradise untouched by A. How ironic. Love was Spencer Hastings and no one else. Tell the Hastings about that. Again the answers came in the form of an imaginative, albeit purely physical response right when her eyes met Emily's: the way they looked at each other, the way their bodies talked one more day, the way these two bodies seemed to solve things on their own even when they both had found no words (but it'd seemed so easy to find words just some weeks ago, even when words were deployed to fight their battles). It'd always been like this. Their bodies did all the talking, not really them; their eyes did the work of a gravitational force, and all the fame of Spencer's knock-down eyes came stumbling down with it and transformed into a melting, suave overflow of emotion and mush, and she became all soft inside, all soft, no hard lines, nothing but smoke. Smokey Hastings. Smokey Hastings inside.

However, Smokey Hastings had a problem with the world, and another one with Emily. No matter how soft and warm inside, she was still upset after that conversation with McCullers in the lockers room. And she couldn't afford it. It wasn't right.

Just do no harm, Hastings.

She had too many things to fix to add one more to care about.

Emily smiled, Spencer smiled in return, and Aria turned around to look.

As if only two understood that particular truth about them, that they had also been built in meaningful silences that Spencer could never handle so well, Aria was the one to break the spell and bring out the words.

"You're late."

Spencer stopped before them, a passing look exchanged with Emily, and let her arms fall beside her body in recognition of her failure as Master Of Time.

"I know", she apologized, her tone slightly cold, "I'm sorry."

"Did something happen?", Emily asked worriedly. "You're never this late."

Of course Emily would know, but the sound of her sweet voice startled Spencer. She did talk! And not only to Paige McCullers. A miracle of all sorts, if she had A's number she would certainly text back to let him, her and them know.

"No."

It was only one word but it sounded final and somewhat resentful, and for a moment the clever, precise, educated Spencer Hastings fell into a speechless coma. Still, she had to say something to Emily. She couldn't just tell her no.

"I had to pick up all the balls in the field so I went in late for the showers."

"Why?"

"The coach made me."

"Anyway", Aria cut in, finally grasping the reason Spencer couldn't openly talk about it and providing her with some backup, "we really need to go pick up Hanna if we wanna be in time for the dry cleaner, Spence."

Alison's legacy: an endless trail of hints and clues that always drove them nowhere further than their noses. They'd found a ticket in one book Hanna had sort of borrowed from Alison once, which proved two things Spencer had always somehow believed: that  _everything_  could be a clue and that Hanna was a good asset regardless of how high and noisy her heels were.

Spencer inwardly thanked Aria for the help, even if it had come kind of late.

"Yeah", she agreed, inviting Aria to walk, "let's go."

"Where's Han?", Emily asked a little eagerly, almost as if she didn't really want them to leave yet. "I can walk with you two to wherever you're picking her up."

Spencer raised her brow. "To your place?"

She sensed the way Emily's body seemed to inadvertently flinch upon hearing the curt answer. She didn't mean to sound sharp, she was just in a hurry and she wanted to leave in order to solve Alison's mystery for good and, well, she was also pissed off and too sad over the marvelous lack of words that characterized her relationship with Emily at this very moment, because she was maybe slightly obsessed about words, she had been all her life, she was outspoken, she talked a lot but enjoyed listening too (listening to what others had to say,  _when they were Emily_ ), and examining and discovering new things, joking and fooling around, defining every aspect of life that could never be defined, and  _she told her, she told her_  when they started dating, and everything had been so good, and Emily had talked so much... it was unbelievable. It wasn't as if she needed to tell her because Emily  _knew_ , which only made everything worse, because for Emily there was no need for words but she was the opposite, she depended on the sound of words and their reassuring meanings to keep balanced and sane and effective.

And it was wrong.

And something wasn't working right.

But it wasn't the best moment to talk to Emily after McCullers. She knew she had to avoid it, but still she came to the library instead of meeting Aria somewhere else and now she had to face the pain in Emily's eyes for which she was guilty.

"My place?"

"The Marins'."

With time she'd learned to speak of Hanna's house as if it were Emily's too.

"I didn't know you were picking her up there."

"Why don't you come with us?"

Aria asked the question because she'd obviously sensed something was going wrong in their brief threeway conversation.

"I can't", Emily shrugged, looking both resigned and guarded, and probably still hurt after Spencer's previous rejection, "I have to hand in an essay next Friday."

"I'm sure you can skip a couple of hours of killing yourself over the books, Em", Aria insisted, "and it's for next Friday, so you have plenty of time to write it."

"No", Emily argued, "really, I do need the couple of hours, it's not coming so easy."

Spencer had to bite her tongue not to throw in a comment about how a couple of hours could be saved if only Emily asked her for help with homework.

No more words.

She was going to stop saying words, she was going to stop talking altogether.

"So let's go", she said instead of risking another bad bite, "we're late."

She felt Emily's gaze burning her skin for a second, and then the gaze was directed somewhere else like it always happened when Emily was hurt but wouldn't tell.

Aria made an obvious look-around, trying to find something to do in the distance.

"Oh, right, Noel", she abruptly let out, "let me go talk to him."

"I thought you didn't talk to Noel anymore."

"No, I don't", Aria agreed, shooting her best murderous glare to Spencer out of the corner of her eye, "but he's dating Jenna and, you know, maybe he can share some information."

It made no sense. Aria was just looking for a way out to force them to talk about  _feelings_.

"But we're going to be  _late_ , Aria."

"You're not the only one who can cross-examine our suspects, Spence", Aria warned, still pretending to be interested in Noel. "And I'll wait for you in the car."

"You don't have to leave us alone so we can  _talk_ ", Spencer shot bluntly, "we're fine, and you're making it too obvious."

It was funny how that emerald color could grow darker, sending intense rays of a deep wild-forest green that were as menacing as a panda bear or a rare Amazonian flower.

Oh, Aria.

"Gimme the keys, Spencer."

Given the last threat of assassination promised within the confines of Aria's big expressive, normally candid eyes, Spencer had no other choice than to give Aria the keys to her car.

They both watched her leave in an undetermined direction (certainly not towards Noel Kahn) before staring at each other again in hesitation.

Do no harm.

Watch out the bite.

Watch out the dog, the scorpion, the snake bite.

"It's not called cross-examination when it's a suspect", Spencer muttered under her breath, "you can only cross-examine a witness, and for all we know he could be an accomplice too."

Emily didn't bat a lash at Spencer's lecture.

"What's wrong?"

Spencer bit her lip. She did it unconsciously when she was nervous, but as soon as she realized she tried to stop doing weird things with her mouth.

"Only Aria's definition of cross-examination."

This time Emily rolled her eyes.

"Why are you mad?"

"I'm not", she tried her best to deny, "I'm just stressed out and we're running late already."

"Yeah, I'm sorry to keep you."

There was a distinctive reproach in Emily's voice and the automatic response in Spencer was regret.

"Why don't you come with us?", she mimicked Aria, trying harder to do some damage control. "It won't take that long."

"Cause I don't wanna have to write during the weekend", Emily explained in a remotely angry tone, "I thought we were sorta going to celebrate my birthday with some kind of activity that wouldn't include writing an essay or having dinner with my parents."

The dreaded dinner.

"An essay looks like the perfect b-day to me."

Emily did another of her perfect eye-rolls, right when her lashes seemed to fly away and her chin lifted up in pride, but the left corner of her lips twitched up in a smile at Spencer's joke.

"Well, I guess I'm just not you."

"We're gonna celebrate it, Em."

You can't imagine.

Can you?

Emily stared right into her eyes.

"So why are you pissed?"

"It's… I'm not pissed."

Your silence.

That is the reason.

Your silence.

And the fact that I just invited your new bestie to your birthday party and she told me things about you I would've liked to know first.

"You look tired."

"You too."

This was their most common interaction lately and it seemed to frustrate Emily too, because she exhaled loudly enough to make Spencer move a little closer, circling the gap, controlling the damage. This was not the right moment to pick up a fight. Maybe after the party they could talk. Maybe even fight. Fights were fought with words.

"You should let Hanna and Aria go together so you could go home take a nap."

"You're kidding, right?", Spencer said, standing just a little closer and looking around in fake wonder. "You think you're still talking to Aria. Am I shorter now?"

"You're still tall", Emily joked back, her tone more relaxed, "but you do look kinda cuter today."

"Ha", Spencer let out dryly, "I'm Team Arily all the way."

A slightly mischievous smile appeared on Emily's lips.

"You know you could trust them."

"If I wanted the evidence destroyed and them dead, yeah, I suppose I could."

Emily's smile grew slightly wider and her eyes glinted with a fleeting bolt of delight.

"I forgot you're irreplaceable even when it's about picking up Ali's stuff from the dry cleaner."

"Absolutely", Spencer accepted, "and we still don't know what's gonna be there."

"What if it's her panties?"

Spencer raised her brows at Emily's challenge.

"I'll give them to you", she snapped, but her tone was challenging too, and Emily's immediate response was an uncontrollable blush. "But even Alison wouldn't take her underwear to a dry cleaner, Em. I think she wasn't that crazy."

"Yeah", Emily nodded, again shyly, "you're right."

"We'll see."

"You're irreplaceable and also a control freak."

"Who kicks ass."

"Who kicks ass", Emily smiled sweetly, "I was gonna say that."

The small attempt at restoring a good vibration between them was proving to be effective, although not totally devoid of tension, if only because they both were making the effort simultaneously, so Spencer decided to go for it and repair the damage.

One more step and it would be too late.

She tugged at Emily's sweater clumsily, the colder breeze of autumn blazing through her nostrils, the spin of emotions whirling around in her heavy, clouded heart.

"You know your birthday's on Monday, right?", Spencer murmured softly now, reminding Emily of her previous words. "So all celebrations are postponed for the real day."

Refreshed by the unexpected contact, finding the way to hold Spencer's hand and to play around with her fingers, Emily seemed to glow in inner pleasure.

"Aren't we having dinner on Saturday?"

"Dinner with me on Saturday and dinner with your parents on Sunday", Spencer confirmed, gulping at the idea of The Fields, "but those are the only celebrations planned for the weekend. Even presents are coming on Monday."

Emily pouted just a little bit.

"That's not true."

Of course it wasn't.

"Of course it is", Spencer lied convincingly, "I believe in giving a birthday present on the correct date."

A glimmer of rebellious, open mischief shone through Emily's dark brown eyes.

"You believe in giving a birthday present  _any_  day it suits you."

Yes.

The memory of  _this -_  the memory of  _that_.

She'd bought Emily's birthday present so many months in advance, and then she'd used it to make up for another of her mistakes. And then they had kissed in Hanna's room. All memories, memories of them, memories of the past?

Her heart broke, in the bad, terrible way.

She didn't want to be memorizing things in order to remember them later.

She didn't want to be a historian of her own love story.

She missed her.

She missed her so bad, but she was here, she hadn't left. They were still here. The two of them.

"I believe in making things right."

Frowning in confusion at the last statement, Emily looked down to their entwined hands.

"Don't leave yet."

"I'm here", Spencer said, and her throat was dry but the space behind her eyes was wet, "what do you want?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders and let out a small, joyless laugh.

"Many presents."

"That you will have", Spencer smiled reassuringly, "probably."

"Probably?"

"Probably."

"I know you, Spencer", Emily smirked, gaining momentum in joy, "I'm sure you have a whole room at your place that's full of presents."

"You're talking about Melissa's room", Spencer joked the sadness away, although it was true she had some presents stored in her closet. "Your expectations might be just a little too high, you know?"

"And that would be your fault."

"It's always my fault, right?"

"It's always your fault", Emily agreed, squeezing Spencer's fingers in her hand in an act of pure warmth, "so are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing", Spencer denied again, "just… you know,  _life_  in general."

Emily's dark storm cloud returned to alight on her head.

"You mean life in Rosewood."

Now it was Spencer's turn to squeeze Emily's hand.

"Yeah, life in Rosewood", she said, "it sucks big time, huh?"

"I know it sucks for you too."

Spencer blinked repeatedly to get rid of some of the tears she'd already fought in the showers after talking to McCullers.

"It's worse for you", she asserted, because she was sure of that, "but, hey, at least we get to enjoy our own teenage Get-Your-Personal-Psychokiller show, and someday we'll be famous for all the wrong reasons."

Emily shook her head to indicate she didn't agree with that.

"It's not worse for me."

Then the surprise came when Emily took one step and embraced Spencer tightly in her arms.

"It's not worse for me", she repeated in a whisper, "and you'll be famous for all the right reasons, I'll make sure of it."

The girl in a speechless coma, that was who she was.

Smokey Hastings.

The girl with no words, the girl with a (complicated) nose she used to sniff the apple-scented shampoo, the subtly coded perfume, sweet with a vague touch of popcorn. She lifted her own arms and returned the embrace as best as she could, and it felt like the old times, only more intense, only always more intense, only always safe but still different, strangely new, rewritten with different words. No, but there were no words. There was only the embrace.

"Spence."

But Spencer was breathing the lovely, feisty hair of her day-dreams.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry", Emily whispered, "I'm sorry I'm being so crappy right now."

A couple of tears escaped and she hated them, because she hated to cry in public and because this was A's fault, it was McCullers' fault, it was everybody's fault.

"You're not, you're…"

Emily shut her up with a quick kiss on the lips.

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be, Em."

"I wish we could just…", Emily started but trailed off, her eyes red too, "I wasn't being serious when I said I wanted many presents, one is fine… or the one you already gave me back in spring, it was the best thing ever."

Spencer executed her best watery-eyed sarcastic eye-roll, which probably didn't come across quite sarcastic, and Emily smiled warmly at the failed try.

"You liked that one, didn't you?"

"I did", she confirmed, "you know what I really want?"

"What?"

"Let's go dancing on Saturday?", Emily proposed dreamily, "only us. Let's do it out of Rosewood too."

Shit.

For all of heaven's sake.

Could she never get things right? Could she never conceive of the right plan?

"You mean after dinner?"

She couldn't cancel the party now. Shit, shit, shit. Emily didn't want a party. Emily didn't want to be in Rosewood. Emily, Emily, Emily. Scream, scream, scream.

"My parents will let me stay until later."

"Yeah, but not that late, Em."

"Can't we just say we're all sleeping at Aria's?"

"I'll see what I can do."

All she wanted to do was to stab herself in the heart. And Aria and Hanna. She needed no Brutus and no Senate. The library entrance would suffice to soak in the pool of her blood.

"Okay", Emily nodded, but examined her closely again, "you still don't look fine, you're pale."

Because all her blood was being drained out of her body into the ground and down the stairs.

"I'm fine, I'm just stressed", she said, "and I should really leave or Aria will turn into some kind of geological accident inside my car."

Emily's grip on her waist grew tighter when she tried to disentangle herself from her arms.

"Wait."

"I thought you wanted me to get A."

"I want you to talk to me."

Irony.

"I want you to talk to me too, but you don't", she fired the words before she could stop them, "so why should I do it and not you?"

Emily blinked, her eyes filling with quiet, abundant tears.

"Talk about what?"

"Talk about anything you want, Emily, anything you feel."

Instead of denying it, she just nodded, assuming Spencer was right.

"I know I'm…" She struggled again, her voice a thin thread of sound. "I'm not being my best and I… I don't know what to say."

"Well, don't say anything then, that's what you're already doing anyway."

The bitchy, callous remark only scared Emily, and her almond eyes opened wide before blinking again.

"No, I…"

"It's okay."

"It's not."

A grunt escaped Spencer's lips, impatience in her blood, remorse in her heart because she knew she was being unfair, she couldn't talk to her like this, it wasn't the moment, it wasn't right, and they had just hugged.

"Then say it, say whatever you want."

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't know what to say to _me_?"

Crossing her arms, Emily tried to defend herself with her posture. "No."

"Great, then I guess I'm leaving."

Emily stopped her, grabbing the sleeve of her duffel coat. "No, stay."

"No?", Spencer repeated in slight defiance. "What do you want, Em?"

"Why are you mad at me? Cause I'm not being my best?"

"Cause you don't let me help you feel better."

Emily opened her mouth and closed it again.

"I'm not letting you help me?" She did look sort of baffled when she finally managed to utter the repetitive words. "But you're helping me."

"With A, but I wanna help  _more_ ", Spencer argued heatedly. Now that she'd gotten into it, she might as well say part of what she thought. "Like… I've been helping you with your homework since we were in 9th grade and now you won't even let me close to it."

"I don't wanna slow you down."

"You didn't have that kind of moral problem when we were only friends."

"It's not a moral problem", Emily high-pitched nervously, "it's… It's senior year and you're under a lot of pressure already and I don't wanna slow you down, Spencer."

"You're not gonna slow me down", Spencer said, keeping her voice down, "if we just sit for a while and do homework together like we used to."

"That's why you're mad?"

"Yes."

Yes.

Among other things.

She wasn't a swimmer but she was a freaking genius and that meant she could help with homework. She was entitled to at least that.

"So if you're mad about that we can work on it on Sunday before dinner", Emily conceded, "only if you promise me not to… you know, if you don't stop your own…"

"You won't slow me down, Emily."

"You promise?"

Promises - they didn't mean a thing.

"Just take my word on it."

"And you'll stop being mad?"

"I'm not that mad, I'm just…"

"Pissed."

They both smiled, acknowledging the truth.

"It's more frustrated, really, like you're hurting my nerdy feelings."

"I'm sorry", Emily repeated, "I'm really sorry."

Spencer took a deep breath, and this time she was the one to advance a step and reproduce the embrace. One more step, it'd be too late. But it wasn't too late. She pushed Emily's back with her arms into her chest, pulling her tighter, and in that moment she realized Emily was also taking the chance to breathe the fragrance of her neck, and, awkwardly, it surprised her, because it'd been so long since they shared any real physical contact that allowed her imagination to flow in the direction of a purely elemental, primitive want that was defined as lust, or perhaps as desire, that she'd just come to unwillingly believe it'd been postponed for an indeterminate period of time and that maybe it'd never come back, it was leaving for good, it was slowly fading away, turning its back on her, saying goodbye; that maybe they were going back to just being friends with time.

She pulled away softly, making an effort to remember this conversation was about something else.

Concerning sex, she'd become a camel walking in the desert, humps stored out of water or fat tissue to survive the long hard day and the freezing, windy night.

For now she had to forget about sex and focus on homework.

"So we agree on it, right?", Spencer made sure to clarify. "Just so we're clear: we're doing homework together from now on."

Emily nodded in emphasis, and after the newer embrace she seemed clearly relieved.

"It's a date."

No.

Not  _that_  kind of date.

No kiss, no make-out session, no sexual encounter of any sort.

"It's gonna be more than one date", Spencer warned, "cause you can't get any Bs."

"Fine", Emily agreed, stopping the eye-roll halfway, "it's gonna be a rigid schedule of study-dates that we're gonna follow no matter what."

Exactly.

"Good girl."

"And we have a real date on Saturday."

Yes.

One that, taking into account her recently expressed wishes and desires, Emily was going to hate.

"We do."

"I hope we can… you know, we can spend some time alone."

Was that code for making out?

Oh my god, it was.

The return of sex… of real kisses! And she was changing it for a party to which she'd invited McCullers and that Emily was anyway going to despise! Could life be more cruel in any way?

"Yeah", Spencer sort of croaked, her voice too weak, "we will."

Life totally, utterly, completely sucked. Big time.

A small smirk formed on Emily's lips, because this time she was unable to grasp the reality behind Spencer's words.

"It's been so long."

Indeed.

"Yeah."

Too long.

"And about our study-dates", Emily said, "my parents will love the news, you know."

"That's good", Spencer was almost thankful for the change of topic, "cause I really need your parents to love something about this whole situation."

Not that the Fields were greatly comforting as a topic.

Meeting her eyes with a direct, albeit somewhat shy gaze, Emily seemed to hesitate for a second before speaking again.

"Are you gonna back me up on Sunday?"

"Back you up?"

"With them", Emily clarified, "especially with my mom." She paused, thinking her words carefully. "I know she's been calling you."

Spencer's body tensed up.

"Can't you go to dinner with Aria?", she pleaded. "She's good at saying the right thing to everybody."

Emily frowned. "Whatever happened to  _I'll always look out for you_."

"I can look out for you from a distance", Spencer replied, "and using binoculars."

"I really need you on this one, Spence."

"And you'll have me", Spencer granted, "but I just have to figure out the way to back you up and please them at the same time."

"You don't have to worry about them", Emily tried to assure, but didn't sound very convincing, "it's me they're after, not you."

Like it was possible to not worry about them after she'd promised Pam Fields to find a way to get Emily back on the team. But she'd have to find a way. She'd have to seek for Aria's advice regarding the art of diplomacy, which wasn't really one of the stronger points of her character. Diplomacy classes. Aria was really enjoying her current role as best friend these days. She was teaching her a lot of things.

"I'll back you up."

Looking away in search of the right words, the serious, somber expression weighted on Emily's neat, vivid, usually spirited features.

"I know you agree with them", Emily suddenly said, "so it's a lot to ask."

"It's a normal thing to ask, Em", Spencer replied, "and I don't exactly agree with them."

Emily smiled faintly, not really willing to go there.

"Thanks."

They were still holding hands, closer than they'd been for days, maybe weeks. And still, they couldn't really mention the swim team and Emily wasn't yet saying anything about how she felt, anything she'd already told McCullers. Not yet. Not now. Maybe tomorrow, or after the party, or even better after the Dreaded Dinner, or at some point in their lives before they grew old and had eight kids, maybe then they'd discuss that part.

"I really have to go."

"Let me walk you to your car", Emily requested gently, "yes?"

"Yes."

So she let her walk her to her car, and to her car they walked in silence, still holding hands.


	33. Surprise!

"Sorry."

The newest apology murmured into her ear heightened her senses, even more than the sting of the handle against her lower back.

"I'm fine", she throatily assured, liberating her kidney from the extreme pressure of the car door, "don't worry."

Dinner had gone by quietly, eerily smooth inside the restaurant. The candles on the table had projected fancy shadows in the corner where they sat in a perfect representation of the intimacy they still shared with each other. It was the representation of a couple going out for a romantic dinner to a place far enough from home - the tableau of their evasive love. Spencer had chosen a dark corner in a French restaurant in Philadelphia where she used to come with her family, knowing that intimacy would blow out in their faces the minute they drove back to Rosewood and entered the café where people were waiting to energetically shout  _surprise_  to Emily before sucking her into a massive whirlwind of care and joy. This moment had been planned for intimacy. For Spencer, it'd been merely transitory, even acted out; besides, she'd kept receiving texts from Hanna informing her of different situations taking place at their destination in Rosewood, the ice was not enough, one loudspeaker was failing and Caleb was trying to fix it, the presents didn't fit in the storage room, a couple of people had arrived early (their dresses were ugly), Aria had brought the chocolate cake but had forgotten her present, Mona had found out about the party and Hanna had had to invite her and then she'd felt obliged to invite Lucas too, and so on. Well, that was Hanna in charge: making decisions but keeping Spencer on board so they could bicker about them later. For Emily, on the contrary, intimacy was true: she was glowing more than the candles. This was, finally, what she wanted, what she'd been waiting for all this time: to get out of Rosewood, to be left alone - together - in this abandoned parking lot outside the restaurant. She was looking stunning. She was looking jaw-dropping, mascara and red lips and a short purple dress Spencer had never seen before, which added a subtly inviting cleavage that was making Spencer feel light-headed and incredibly anxious. However, Spencer had also made a calculated effort to impress and she was wearing her famous navy-blue dress, a tribute to the night of their first kiss and to her indisputably winner legs. Meanings. Tricky meanings, but meanings that were also clear as day. Calls for attention. Hello, these are my legs, tonight I'm going to prove you're staring at them. The burning cheeks on Emily's face, that was the telltale reaction Spencer had been hoping to get. This glow - this perfect light. The same one she saw that first night. It had taken her a long time to decide on an outfit, but finally she'd realized nothing else would affirm itself more perfectly than this dress, even if there were others that could fit better or look sexier, because there was no other dress that could point out what it meant to be with Emily for her.

This was the one.

This was the one dress that could make it.

They were kissing in the parking lot, under the stars, leaning against Spencer's car.

As soon as they'd walked into the night Emily had tugged at her coat and had started to kiss her in a rush. Spencer knew she'd gotten the code right: a lop-sided smirk of inner satisfaction, an instant to savor when she playfully pulled away, feigning the hard-to-get pose before giving herself over to the kiss, Spencer had responded accordingly not only because she'd gotten it right but also because there were thousands of meanings planned for Emily to uncover tonight. The whole night was intended as the miraculous cave of treasures and meanings, of which Emily did not know a thing yet. Spencer had gone for French for the same reason she was wearing this dress: to pay tribute to their first official date. Everything was supposed to have a meaning tonight. There was always a reason for everything that had been planned in detail. Especially after what Emily had done for her birthday Spencer felt obliged to at least double the bet and triple the meaning. She just had to go big, bigger than life, so to speak, as if to fail even more catastrophically. This was Spencer Hastings we were talking about. She had a bit of a habit of keeping score. So when they followed the first series of kisses by stumbling out in a tight embrace towards her SVU and when later her body was thrown against the car door somewhat too vigorously, in true bold-Emily fashion, Spencer saw only a confirmation of everything she'd guessed about Emily during the preceding days. Maybe getting this right could mean that all the other plans would work as well; maybe not. However, the only way to find out consisted in leaving this parking lot for the party, which implied she had to break the kiss off at some point. But still – she'd been savoring this moment for what it was worth. Back against the handle, taking too much pressure on her kidney. A sudden lack of control - dizziness and the loss of time passing by - dizziness and pregnant clouds of rain. She didn't want it to end. She liked it. It was oddly arousing, it was addictive even when it was sort of clumsy and rough. Codes for making out, codes for sex, codes that were abruptly returning to them; body codes; breath on breath, lip to lip, teeth on flesh.

They started to kiss in an outburst of hunger and thirst.

It felt surreal. They'd been talking during dinner, dragging around topics they couldn't really get into, especially on a night like this. Mostly, though, even before stepping out into the parking lot, the restaurant had been a roaring confirmation of the code of making out, because all they'd been able to do besides pretending to maintain a conversation was to eye each other in a yearning that had been postponed for too long. It wasn't only that they'd tried to look as good as they could tonight. They were both dressed to kill, and they both knew why. This was not about dinner. On the contrary, dinner had been going to happen in the parking lot and not inside the restaurant, and the restaurant had been just a set-up for what was to come later, a mere convention, a mere rule of the game, the game that ordered people to follow certain arrangements when it came to romance and dating; but the real dinner (i.e. the kiss) was going on only now between the cars, backs slammed and lips crushing. However, the kiss had never felt so weird before. Try kissing someone you've wanted to kiss for weeks now and that you've come to believe you'll never get the chance to kiss like this in a long time. Try  _being_  a camel, behaving like a camel, drinking water and eating food like a camel, Spencer thought to herself, try  _thinking_  like a camel who's never going to be allowed to enjoy the pleasure of a real kiss again; then get the starry water in the picture and it turns out she is a camel too. She's not water - she's thirsty too, she wants to drink water too. Emily was camel number two. Basically the following situation is laid out: two people are trying to reach an oasis in a parking lot in Philadelphia right before one has to drive  _home_  and offer a party to the other, who doesn't even want that kind of attention, who wants only water and food right now (but that's what you want too, that's why you're wearing this dress, that's why you brought her here to French), no bullshit, no friends, no ex-teammates who will remind her of everything that's making her life miserable instead of a swan, a flower, a star in the summer sky. Yes, so you try that out and you will see the kiss feels weird and rushed, a little surreal at that, as of it's not supposed to happen even though it  _has been_  happening exactly like that before you two entered your whole conversion into camels. This kiss belongs to the past, but right now… it's not in the present because the present is hideous, it's not in the future because the future is blurry and confused, yet it is happening right now, this feverish kiss and this rumor of hands that want too much too soon, but you don't exactly know what to make of it. You wonder if it's going to last if you say something, or if it will stop all of a sudden. You know you will have to say something eventually, you know because you are the one who planned the party and there are people waiting for you at home. You wonder if the kiss can happen tomorrow or even later tonight, once you are back there, and the answer is probably not. Probably not. It will never happen at home. Yes, try it. It won't really work out, but you'll enjoy it anyway if you're like me, if you're Spencer Hastings and you've been left without water for too long, if you're Spencer slutting it up after finding out you had never slut it up quite as good before Emily Fields kissed you in your backyard on a spring night, a few months ago, and you changed, and everything else changed around you. You are devoted to this dreamlike kiss but you're also terrified it's going to end, and you're the one who's going to end it when you pick the moment to say, for example, let's go dancing, I forgot my fake ID in Rosewood, let's go inside this café, and other people start popping up, and Paige McCullers starts popping up like a venomous dwarf (only she's also tall). And you're not sure when you will kiss her again. You just don't know. And again you'll be left in the desert - no oasis in sight.

Give it a shot.

Gracefully sliding along the car, Spencer wrapped her arms around Emily's waistline in order to balance the move without having to break the kiss.

Fifteen minutes more.

Fifteen minutes and they'd have to go.

She had the whole thing figured out in her head, she was a breathing, kissing clock and it was tick-tacking.

"We're still kinda rusty", Emily murmured after hearing Spencer was fine, "it's been so long."

Spencer opened her eyes. She felt like she was flying so high she was going to fall with her eyes open, but instead she found Emily's consuming gaze and the sense of throbbing elation got even more intense.

"Rusty?" She cocked her brow, her voice so incredibly husky. "You probably mean clumsy."

"Clumsy, rusty", Emily replied, lowering her hand to Spencer's mistreated lower back and shifting her own body to reposition herself against the car. "It's the same."

Spencer hummed in disagreement, because one thing was rusty and another one was clumsy. "No, it's not."

There was something about the way Emily rolled her eyes that told Spencer she was actually enjoying this particular lecture.

"We're not gonna do homework together until tomorrow, Spencer", she warned, "so just cut me some slack with the  definitions tonight."

"This is homework too", Spencer decided, "make-out homework."

Was it?

She leaned to her left in order to plant a kiss on Emily's nose, but Emily moved slightly to receive it with her open mouth and the kiss was again deeper. How did things change so much when they got out of Rosewood's radio of evil influence?

"So it's rusty homework", Emily whispered stubbornly in between kisses, "get it?"

"There's no way homework can get rusty, Em."

"Do you ever turn off your brain?"

Not really.

Well, only sometimes while she was having sex, but there was a lot of homework to do in that area in the present.

Instead of relaxed or disconnected, her brain was pretty much accelerated.

"Is that what you want?", she challenged. "Cause maybe you should go back to hitting my head exactly like you used to."

Like it'd happened at the beginning of their  _fling_.

"I'm gonna hit  _on_  your head tomorrow."

Spencer burst out in laughter. That was a good one.

"You got me there."

Emily smirked. "I'm smart even if I can't get straight A's all by myself."

"You know we don't really want you to get straight at anything."

" _We_?"

Spencer smiled crookedly. "We, you know… I."

"You."

Their teeth crashed in a clang because they both wanted to be first to get to the other's mouth.

"Ouch", Spencer complained, "teeth hitting now."

"Cause we're rusty."

And whose fault was that?

"Tutor me."

"I have to do the tutoring?"

"Tutor me in making out", Spencer clarified, "again."

Emily shot a sly smile.

"You already learned everything there was to know."

"We graduated from make-out school, yay", Spencer smiled back, "so now we probably need a different tutor."

Furrowing, Emily stopped the ever-initiating kiss abruptly, causing Spencer to chuckle evilly.

"No way."

Diagnosis: jealousy.

Given her current situation, Spencer was in need to see that kind of reaction even as a joke.

"So we'll just have to keep trying", Spencer continued to tease, "you know trial and error is important both regarding personal experience and scientific progress."

Also remembering the first surprising moments of their love affair, back when Emily had cockily announced she'd always have an advantage over Spencer in everything that concerned making out with another girl, Emily looked up to the sky in search for the best, most amusing answer, and it seemed like they were dancing an old dance they knew so well and could repeat with different variations, just like the counterpoints of a symphony were two independent lines that taunted and challenged each other in composing a single musical work that exploded with a certain, unique intensity and depth. The story of them. The song of them.

"Trial and error in making out."

Emily chose to repeat Spencer's leading musical line, though.

"That's it."

"It can't be that difficult to get to the point we were a month ago."

Spencer feigned confusion and oblivion. "Where was that?"

"You don't remember?"

"My memory's getting kinda  _rusty_  with time, you know."

They were joking but Emily took a deep sigh, indicating she also knew this was slippery, dangerous territory for them.

"Yeah", she said after a second of thinking, "but you know what people say about riding bikes, right?"

Apparently, she'd come up with an amusing idea to add to the tease.

Spencer was curious, so she shook her head.

"What?"

She had an idea, but she wanted to hear.

"It's easy as riding a bike", Emily asserted, her eyes a playful shadow that merged with the night. "Same for making out, kissing and all that."

And all that.

Sex.

Land of forgetfulness.

"Is that supposed to be dirty talk?", Spencer teased further. "Cause I don't totally see where you're going with your bike."

Emily's turn to break into an uncontrollable giggle came now.

"Dirty talk?" Emily breathed out the words while quietly laughing, her warmth on Spencer's cheek. "No."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"Riding bikes", Emily explained, raising her perfectly curvy brows, "you don't forget that, it's easy as riding a bike."

"It's a piece of pie."

"Yeah, that's another one."

Spencer examined the vivid features breathing so close to her.

"So you're saying it should be easy to ride this bike  _together_."

"Yeah."

"The bike of…" She was going to say sex, but then she shyly decided to soften it in view of the recent difficulties to approach that sort of intimacy. "The bike of kissing, although it's gonna take us a little while to… let's say  _pedal_  faster."

Emily nodded a little, trying not to laugh harder at Spencer's idea of a dirty talk.

"Something like that."

"And you said you weren't creative with language?"

"Well, it's you who's giving the explanation."

"But you're the one comparing us to bikes."

"No", Emily denied funnily, "well, maybe."

"Maybe?"

Her tone was challenging and Emily picked up on it.

"I'm comparing us to  _people_  riding bikes."

"People falling  _off_  bikes."

"Rusty bikes."

"Clumsy people."

And who had won this argument about the most orthodox use of adjectives?

"It's my bike", Emily put up a fight, "so I say the bike's rusty."

"It's your bike? Says who?"

Was this really  _not_  a dirty talk? And, if it wasn't, what the hell was it?

"You just said it was  _my_  bike", Emily defended triumphally, "and I said  _all_  about the bike."

"Fine, it's your rusty bike, whatever", Spencer gave up, throwing her left hand up in the air in fake surrender, "I'm losing you here."

"I don't think you can ever lose anything here", Emily smirked joyfully, "or there."

"There?"

"Anywhere."

"You're so optimistic."

"I'm realistic."

"I've lost a couple of things", Spencer dared, "I lost my glasses once… and I lost some hockey games, as well as  _that_  hockey stick."

Emily shook her head in mock astonishment. "Tragic."

"Indeed."

"But you'll never lose  _me_  here or there."

Oh.

Touché.

Spencer's heart did a flip-flop with a double somersault in the air. If Emily knew the effect the words had on her… Maybe she knew and that was why she spoke them. Maybe she was trying to send a message.

She narrowed her eyes, examining Emily's face in the dark of the night. "You're cute."

A troubled kind of cute, but cute always nonetheless.

Queen of cute.

Cutest ever.

Winner of every cuteness contest.

"Heartbreakingly beautiful", Emily added, separating her face a little to gain a more complete view of Spencer's face, "don't forget that."

How could Spencer ever forget?

Looking back it felt like she'd almost brought it upon herself. Was she breaking her own heart all the time? Could she be doing it just because she used the wrong words to describe Emily, or rather what she felt for her former best friend? But the words weren't wrong. Perhaps they were excessive, but she knew what she meant when she used them. She still believed them. It was this constant feeling of awe at the most recent discovery. All there was to know. A scientist. She'd always been a curious person intrigued by everything  _real,_  everything life had to offer. She wasn't only a smart-ass trying to show off her knowledge to her parents, to Melissa, to her teachers and her peers. She wasn't only the Hastings who wanted to kick ass in school. She also wanted to know more about everything. And, with Emily, there was always more. It was like constantly stepping on a foreign planet, but the matter the planet was made of consisted also of her own self, it was merged with herself because there was no way (or at least she hadn't found it) she could think of her own person without thinking of Emily too. So her foreign territory was Emily, but it was also the most familiar one. And they were one. But, sometimes, it terrified her. Not just because Emily was another person who couldn't always be safe from harm. That idea – that she couldn't always protect Emily – as well as the reality associated with it lately was bad enough. Emily had quit the team and Spencer couldn't do much about it except relentlessly chase after A and against the clock. However, there was something else. This feeling of constant awe could get dangerous for someone like her. She didn't know how to deal with it on a regular basis. She didn't know how to keep it under control. And Emily had already been in love (with Alison), but her? This was really her first time. She never had the time or the guts to do it before, nor probably the disposition. Besides, when they were only friends she wasn't being constantly reminded of it because whenever it got too overwhelming she could always focus on something else. It could be Toby or some other guy. It could be her classes (mostly it  _would_  be her classes) at least until A had made its stellar appearance. Emily had her girlfriends, and they both would go home and cope with separate interests and lives. To each their own. Sure, they were keeping constant track of each other, but it wasn't like this. It wasn't this urgency, this need, this dangerous feeling that maybe she was going too far; that maybe she was way  _too_  in love, if such a thing was possible, because she could always fall deeper and go further, she had no boundaries, for real, and not in the sense other people had always imagined of her as if she were just the whimsical Hastings girl. Once they got to be  _one_ , once they  _turned_  romantic, once the friendship was acknowledged as  _love_ , such as the one she'd read about in books and poems and listened to in songs, such as the one she thought was experimenting with Toby but was really  _not_ , no matter how different their musical lines were and how perfectly they counterpointed each other in the single symphony they were (best friends and lovers), Spencer understood there was no previous ground, no treatise, poem or song that would guide her through the good and the bad. It was terrifying because there was no other choice than to live through it and accept the risks; it was terrifying because now she understood that losing Emily meant, somehow, that she'd also lose herself; she couldn't go back and pretend this wasn't supposed to happen, even when there was a time when she felt perplexed that it  _had_  happened. She couldn't escape Emily and land in someone else's territory anymore. It was too late. She was too in love. She didn't care about anything else. She couldn't escape Emily and land  _home_. There was no escape. There was no escape from this symphonic planet that they had managed to create. And she liked it. She liked it even when it was not so good.

But that didn't mean she was actually so prone to feel heartbroken, not when it was hurting so much.

"Didn't you totally forbid the use of that word?", she asked, her tone more vehement than usual. "I thought you didn't like it."

Doubt conquered Emily's expression. She was trying but they were definitely rusty.

"Amazingly hot's better, you're right", she conceded, her tone remaining light, "as in I steal your breath away and you feel dismayed whenever you see me."

"Dismayed? You're getting so deep tonight."

Spencer started playing with a lock of black hair in between her fingers.

"Would you like it better if I talked dirty?", Emily challenged now, because the dirty-talk joke had obviously impressed her. "Cause I can just slightly change the words."

Blood slowly crept to Spencer's cheeks at the mere mention of the possibility.

Sudden blows.

Images of real scenarios that merged with her fantasies.

The desert.

The oasis.

Camels in the night.

A foreign planet.

"I think I get it."

"Yeah?"

"You're right", Spencer admitted straightforwardly, "you totally got me."

"Nice", Emily smiled cheekily, but then her smile faded away, "it's just a joke."

Fear.

Emily was also afraid of the heartbreaking-beauty joke and all its possible ramifications. Emily was also afraid of everything that was going on with them.

"I know", Spencer replied, trying to sound reassuring, "so what's with the dirty talk?"

"You wanna hear it?"

Of course she wanted to, for god's sake. But there was no time. She had to cut it off before it got too out of hand.

"Does it have to do with bikes again?"

Emily smiled widely. "Not really."

"I'm so glad."

"I can get better than that."

"Let's get down to it."

They were silent for a long moment before Spencer leaned in for the next kiss, but Emily gently stopped her with her hand.

"It was a joke", she repeated, still worried about the previous tease, "the heartbreaking thing."

No, it was not a joke.

Emily was heartbreakingly beautiful because she'd always be like this, she'd never let it go if she thought she'd said or done something wrong. That was Emily, always worried about doing the right thing. That was Emily - Spencer's planet, Spencer's home. That was the only person in the world who could break Spencer's heart, because it belonged to Emily and no one else could ever own it even if she wanted to believe otherwise.

"I still think you're that kind of beautiful", Spencer whispered, "just for the record."

They kissed again and it lasted for enough minutes to send Spencer's inner clock into alarm mode, because she didn't want to leave, she didn't want to end it, she didn't want a party, and it'd be so good to build a cabin in the parking lot and just stay there and live happily ever after as rusty, clumsy cyclists talking dirty in strange circles of words.

The phone in her coat buzzed.

It was probably Hanna saying they were ready.

She broke the kiss off.

"Who's been texting you all night?", Emily asked, her tone a mix of mockery and real concern. "Do I have competition?"

"Unless you call Hanna and Aria competition, no, you don't." She stole a quick glance to the text (Aria; ready) before deciding to add something cocky. "Although you could use some."

Emily's eyes did widen slightly in surprise.

"Competition? Seriously?"

" _So_  seriously."

"You're kidding."

She looked genuinely concerned, probably because it was the second warning she was receiving tonight along with the tutor-in-making-out one.

"No, I'm totally serious", Spencer wickedly but explicitly teased, "I'm already calling up the contenders for next week."

Emily frowned and Spencer chuckled again, because she knew Emily was asking her for reassurance but a part of her could not help but think Emily could use the warning. A part of her. The part of her who was terrified of losing her and slightly heartbroken about the recent changes they were both going through.

"It's not funny", Emily complained.

Maybe it wasn't.

"Says who?"

" _Me_."

"You."

"I don't want competition."

"And you don't have it."

They stared into each other's eyes as if they were saying words so terribly important and groundbreaking.

"You sure?"

Ha.

"Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?"

Emily rolled her eyes, as though that was the shallowest thing Spencer had ever said in her whole life: it probably was.

"For your information, I have every morning", Emily answered, her eyes fixed and constant, playful too, "and we both know that's not so important."

"Oh, we do?"

"Apparently you do", Emily fired, "cause you never noticed my amazing hotness before I planted a kiss on your face."

"I did notice it", Spencer teased back although Aria had said they were ready and she should be breaking this off, "but I was used to falling in love with brains, not with looks."

"Thanks", Emily protested, obviously feeling offended, "but I know you well enough to say you were used to falling in love with six-packs, not with brains."

"Six-packs", Spencer hummed in a raspy voice, "that's right, I'd forgotten all about them."

Emily returned a resentful look. "Yeah."

"But you do have a beautiful brain."

"That needs tutoring."

"And beautiful abs."

Another eye-roll. "Not funny."

"And you have a beautiful nose and beautiful eyes", Spencer enumerated, kissing the nose and taking Emily's palm to her lips, "and a beautiful hand and a beautiful heart. Not to mention the beautiful ass too."

"Cut it out, Spencer."

"Yessir", Spencer winked, "anything you want."

Emily separated from her, surprised with Spencer's heartfelt but teasing tone.

"Stop it."

"I love your brain", Spencer assured, "I love your bikes' references."

"Spencer."

"It's true."

"Will you shut up?"

"Your brain's hotter than any six pack, really", Spencer insisted, "and cuter and… you know."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Trust me, I do know."

"What do you know?"

She touched Emily's forehead to indicate what was inside and then proceeded to stretch on her toes up on her heels so she could put her lips on it too.

"I know there's a lot of dirty talk in there waiting to come out."

Emily finally broke into a smile. "You do want to hear it, right?"

Another kiss flourished in the middle of the parking lot.

It was slow.

So slow the clock thickened inside Spencer's veins, tick-tacking in the distance far away, the loss of every timely reference, although she knew the moment to stop it was coming but she didn't know how to do it and she didn't want to.

Tick-tack.

Emily's hand traveled down to the point where Spencer's dress left way to her thigh.

Tick-tack.

Sex-tacking.

Heat up.

Cleaning up the rust.

Ride this bike.

"Em, it's a parking lot", Spencer mumbled, unwillingly having to stop it, "we can't."

"Let's go in the backseat."

"It's still a parking lot outside a restaurant", Spencer shot the last bullet, "where my parents come all the time."

The mention of the Hastings seemed to do it, although Emily couldn't hide the disappointment.

"Can't we go somewhere else?"

To a party full of people.

To a party with Paige McCullers.

"We're going dancing."

Emily nodded and looked at her watch. "But we still have time…"

"Yeah, let's go."

Those were the words Spencer used to end the kiss, and it was her who killed their dirty-cyclist dream.

It was her.

During the ghostly ride back to Rosewood Emily sat in the passenger's side growing increasingly quiet and looking more and more confused, but when they actually landed in Evil Town she seemed downright puzzled.

Surprise.

Spencer made her best lost-puppy face. "I forgot my fake ID but Aria's got it for me."

"Spencer", Emily protested, "I… Why?"

"I'm sorry", Spencer apologized, "she's got it, it's just… it's gonna take only five minutes."

"It's my birthday."

"I know", Spencer tried again, stabbing her own heart once and again while she parked in front of the Black and White café, "and I'm so sorry."

"How could you forget it?"

"I have a lot on my mind, Em."

The retort was effective, because Emily knew (and felt guilty enough) about that.

"We're not even in Philly anymore."

"But the club's not in Philly", Spencer recited the lame excuse, "it's sort of in between towns."

"And we're gonna dance for how long?", Emily replied, annoyed. "And you don't even wanna…"

She trailed off, unsure of how she should continue. But Spencer knew what Emily meant. She meant bikes. She meant sex.

"Let's go get Aria."

"Could you stop going Team Sparia for at least one night?"

Diagnosis: jealousy.

Spencer didn't know if she should clap her hands about it. Probably not. It was Aria, after all.

"This isn't about Team Sparia."

"Right, but it's about A."

She could see Emily biting back more of her anger.

"It's not about A, Em."

"I don't wanna go there and discuss our latest clues."

"I'm just picking up my ID, Emily."

"I don't wanna see Aria tonight", Emily complained heatedly, leaning further against her seat, but Spencer could see she was immediately regretting her words about Aria. "It's not Aria, I just wanted to see  _you_."

"And I'm here."

" _I know_."

"Let's go get the ID", she offered, grabbing Emily's hand for encouragement, "we'll be out in five minutes."

Sure.

Emily seemed doubtful - but Emily was too good. Emily always understood. Emily was kind. So she opened the door, apparently resigned to forget about her own perfect birthday idealization that had to take place out of Rosewood and out of their most familiar world, and hopped out of the car without saying another word.

Emily.

Surprise.

They entered the café and there were strange people around them. When Spencer mentioned Aria was probably downstairs, in another floor, she held her breath while Emily followed her steps down in the dark of the staircase, hand in hand.

Blinding light.

Roar of voices.

A massive form advancing as if to close the gap between the plan and the surprise.

Surprise!

Opening her mouth in immediate shock, Emily gasped and turned to Spencer to smile her brightest smile before stepping into the loving people's embrace. She started hugging everybody, and everybody started hugging her.

They parted ways.

Emily was sucked into the crowd of care and joy, pronouncing hello's and thank- you-for-coming's and I-had-no-idea-about-this' to everyone she hugged, and Spencer started greeting people too as she discussed important matters with Hanna, Aria and Caleb. For once, the ice: there was enough. She had to agree with Caleb and not with Hanna on this one. Then there was the storage room, which Hanna and Aria had managed to organize better but that looked like a mess when the task at hand was to select the concrete present that a person was going to hand out. The speakers were apparently working again, but they wouldn't be completely sure until they got on stage. As she solved the last details, walking from one place to another in true hyperdrive mode, saying hello to this person, stopping by to hug this other person, Spencer missed Emily so badly it hurt again. She'd lost her in the crowd. They'd parted ways. This party was about the worst idea she'd ever had relationship-wise, and the only thing she was hoping to get… it wasn't sex, it wasn't real joy (although maybe Emily would feel it after all) but it was a meaning to the whole situation and also a  _solution_  to the swim-team conflict between them and A.

Was that all she was hoping to get?

Maybe also sex, at some point.

Maybe also love in the form of verbal communication.

Peeking through the crowd that had stolen her girlfriend, Spencer couldn't catch a glimpse of Emily at first, but after a while she saw a smile flaring like a sparkler in the middle of the night and she knew it was her. She was standing in a group of swimmers, animatedly talking with them.

The plan was working then.

Maybe, maybe.

She was smiling.

Spencer knew Emily well enough to know she was grateful for everybody's presence, but she also knew her well enough to know she was impersonating her sweetest, most presentable self in order to please everybody who had come. Because that was Emily. Because that was Emily's mode of survival. But whatever was inside that head of hers that a while ago had been full of cyclists and dirty invitations to the backseat of the SVU (which she used to hate), Spencer couldn't know now and would have to find out later, if Emily actually decided to speak her mind and open her heart to her. Their last words had been sort of tense. And now she was smiling in the distance. Smiling to a group of swimmers. Smiling to Paige McCullers, who was also in the group with such an admiring look on her face the whole world could see she was melting in front of her girlfriend. Spencer realized she could've destroyed McCullers the other day but she'd lost her chance, and now McCullers was here drooling all over Emily and feeling she had the Hastings bitch seal of approval to do so.

Good job, Spencer.

Good job.

A bad sensation gripped the gut of her stomach and she felt nauseous.

Diagnosis: jealousy.

Diagnosis: type-A personality, excessive love of competition, hatred of psychotic individuals who had hurt Emily even if Emily didn't see it that way, envy, greed, lust, love, love, love.

She turned around searching for Hanna's curls, which she spotted in one corner next to Caleb, Lucas and Mona. Hanna had something that could help her straighten herself, so she broke through the ocean of people until she reached the group, greeted Mona and Lucas and sneaked her hand into Hanna's purse.

"What are you doing?", Hanna asked, noticing Spencer's sneakiness. "You want money?"

Spencer rolled her eyes.

"Yes, that's exactly it."

But Hanna knew what she wanted and she grabbed Spencer's wrist, which was already masterfully extracting the vodka flask Hanna usually took to every other place under the excuse of a perpetual cramp pain.

"Spencer", Hanna scolded, "you can't drink, you have a dinner with the Fields tomorrow."

It wasn't so usual that Hanna and Spencer exchanged their roles like this.

"It's just a shot."

They had grown a little distant from the rest of the group, but Mona's bubbly laughter was a clear indication of her attentive presence.

"Way to go", Mona cheered Spencer's insistent move on the flask, which was already out of the purse and on Spencer's hand. "I always thought you were a bookworm but it turns out you're, like, a superwoman lady killer."

"You truly can't imagine."

Spencer's sarcasm managed to sound somewhat nice because right now she hated McCullers, not Mona, and it was McCullers she wanted to kill with her superwoman powers. But, since she couldn't, she gulped down the one vodka shot she wanted inside.

"In one word, Spence", Hanna advised, " _Pam_  Fields."

"Those are two words, Han."

" _Pam_."

"And that is  _one_."

"That's the sound your head's gonna make against the ground if you keep drinking."

Spencer lifted her index finger. "You're good with metaphors, you should talk to Aria."

"Can't you relax some other way?"

Spencer didn't bother answering. If there were some other way to relax, she'd be using it for sure. But the truth was that she just wanted that sinking feeling out of her stomach.

A tiny hand lacking a body wavered hello in the distance, cornered between different backs and heads.

"Aria."

"Between vodka and Aria", Hanna shouted after her when she was already leaving, "you should definitely go for Aria."

Spencer cut her path to Aria's corner, stealing another glance to the group of swimmers.

There were only three left in the group, including Emily and McCullers.

Emily looked more serious but was still deeply engaged in the conversation with them.

What were they talking about?

Maybe about that Hastings girl Emily used to date approximately forty minutes ago.

Aria suddenly appeared in between the crowd.

"Do you need me to rescue you?", Spencer asked. "Or are you happily crammed like this?"

Elbowing a couple of people to get closer to Spencer, Aria lifted her head in suspicion.

"Why do you smell like Hanna?"

"You mean vodka."

"I mean Hanna's vodka."

"I've been making out with her."

Aria wasn't expecting that, but she didn't buy it. "How much did you take?"

"Pretty much all of her."

"You did not just say that."

"Tell Caleb about it."

Aria smiled widely. "I'll tell Hanna and Emily."

"Oh, you can tell Emily, I don't think she'll mind."

Now Aria frowned. "You're exploding."

"I'm exploding."

"I thought you guys were working things out."

"We were working things out an hour ago, can you believe it?"

"So what happened?"

"This party happened."

"But she's loving it", Aria argued, "and she's not seen the best yet."

"I hate this party."

Aria grabbed Spencer by the arm. "What's going on?"

"I hate the psycho freak."

"Me too, but we're getting close."

" _Aria_ ", Spencer called, "for god's sake."

Aria opened her mouth in realization, but only after looking around in search of Emily.

"Okay, yeah, get it."

"Hanna's getting better than you with words, Ar."

"Cut the bullshit, Spencer", Aria warned, "you can't tell me you're jealous of McCullers."

"I'm not jealous."

"Right."

"I'm not."

"You  _are_."

"Cause she's been talking to  _her_  all the time since we got here!"

"So you're jealous."

"I don't fucking care about her existence."

"You invited her!"

"So what? Let her have it. Maybe she should be the one planning this party and getting on the stage to make a fool of herself."

"Spencer, it's gonna be all right."

"And love will triumph and the good ones will win the war."

"Stop drinking", Aria warned scornfully, "and, seriously, don't blow up this party, Spencer, it's Em's party and we worked too hard to get it right."

Get it right, get it wrong.

Spencer leaned to whisper into Aria's ear. "I won't."

She wasn't drunk, she was just going out of her mind. But she did know about the importance of this party she'd planned with Hanna and Aria, and she wouldn't crack under the pressure of her own heart. She wouldn't crack. She would survive.

Aria's phone beeped.

"Ezra", she informed, picking it up, "hey."

Spencer felt sorry for Ezra, who couldn't get an invitation to the party because it was still too risky for Aria and him to be seen together, especially because, well, it'd be awkward to have him hanging out with his former students. Really awkward. Although she could get used to it. Not to McCullers, though. That was just not her kind of awkward.

She looked around.

McCullers had Emily for herself now.

Congratulations, freak.

You got her.

You'd better put her back on the swim team.

She decided to check on the candles they were going to light later, in another perfect representation of beauty and love that they'd prepared in their global search of meanings, before getting a Coke at the bar.

Maybe they were still talking about her.

Maybe Emily was mentioning some other team she could join.

Maybe tomorrow she should interrogate McCullers again.

It sucked.

She returned to Hanna's side to pour some more vodka on her Coke, and this time Hanna didn't really notice because she was kissing Caleb. At least they were happy.

Someone touched her elbow and said her name.

A guy from the swim team. She didn't remember his name. Brian? He was sort of cute. All swimmers were cute, but she didn't necessarily like them… probably because of Ben. She didn't like Ben ever since he tried to pull that awful move on Emily… Emily again.

Emily again and again and again and again…

Twisting inside of her like a tornado, crashing the waves inside of her like a tsunami.

And there she was still talking to McCullers.

Lady Gaga started singing the song that sounded that night in the car when Emily wisely advised her not to fall in love (but then why?) and that sounded again the night when she said she was going to get her heart broken but that it would be perfectly fine. The night she put her heart on a silver plate for Emily to just feed on it. Was it that night? Or was it later? And who even cared, if not for her, who was obsessed with the timing of things? Then again, it was Emily, it was Emily who had offered her heart also on a silver medal.  _I want your drama,_  Gaga sang, _the touch of your hand_. Yes, that was it. Drama was all she was having lately.  _Don't fall in love_. What did Emily know to tell her so, and what had changed? Memories started collapsing her brain and her heart sunk in her chest and a fire burned in her gut, even if she hadn't really drunk more than two swigs of that crappy Marin vodka.

 _Caught in a bad romance_.

Yes, yes.

It was exactly like that.

She had to bow her head and make a reverence in front of Lady Gaga's utter glitter wisdom.

Somehow Brian asked her and somehow she found herself saying yes, and they ended up dancing together, and she knew what she had to do, and a part of her was wicked enough to find the excuse to do it. She was flirting back with this Brian guy because she wanted some kind of revenge. How sad and lame, right? How bitchy to speak of competition a couple of hours ago and to throw this in her face, but would she even see it, would she even care about it? Of course she would. She was possessive regardless of how many McCullers were talking to her about teams and swimming and who knew what else. Revenge was foolish but also fun, at least in this twisted way she was finding within herself, because she was a good dancer and she knew the effect the right moves could have on the guy. So she gracefully danced: spinning around with an evil sense of discretion, not like a freak, because she just knew the guy would be falling at her feet by the end of it, the firm touch of a hand on her waist indicating the edgy proximity of modern courtship. It'd been months since she'd felt the slightly brusque, decisive grip of a person of the opposite sex and she moved with the music to enjoy this instant of selfish satisfaction. It felt good to be wanted. It felt better to know it'd be pissing her off. Only it didn't feel good at all, anyway.

Logic.

Love, love, love.

When the song was over, she just started to move away.

Brian caught her hand in a rather bold move.

"Hey, another one?"

"That's my girlfriend over there", Spencer cockily replied, disentangling herself from the grip, "so I think this is it for us."

"I know Emily."

"Really? Me too."

The guy laughed. "I've got good intentions, I swear."

Sure, everybody did.

McCullers too.

"Well, you should definitely save them for someone else."

"But you're the best dancer around."

That was quite a compliment and a rather interesting way to try to hit on someone whose girlfriend's birthday he was here to celebrate. She shouldn't have invited this guy. She shouldn't have offered this party.

"Yeah, it's a personal trait of mine."

She turned around, walking away when their eyes finally met for a long moment.

Time stopped.

Emily held her gaze with a concerned, pained expression.

The ground trembled under her feet, a little earthquake shattering everything inside of her.

What was this?

What was going on, and why couldn't she really understand it?

She, of all people?

Emily didn't move a muscle while McCullers' mouth opened to let out more words.

Was this how it was going to be?

Was Emily just going to stand and stare at her in a silent accusation or a plead instead of just  _moving_  and  _talking_  to her?

It was final.

They had to have a serious conversation after this.

It was enough.

She took her cue and looked away, walking straight to the restroom to check out her make-up when she heard the familiar buzz of her phone.

" _Surprise, Spence. How does it feel to know you'll always be second best?_  – A"

Tightening her grip around the cell, she felt like throwing it against the toilet.

But she didn't.

A was playing this game against them.

A was here, somewhere.

"You're gonna fall soon", she muttered enunciating every word, "you bitch, I promise."

She needed some fresh air, so she opened her way through the crowd to the stairs and out in the street.

The night was still and quiet but cold, and her muscles immediately clenched in response. She started shivering, wanting to cry but holding it back because there was no way she was going to destroy her make-up tonight. She'd done enough wrong already. The best was yet to come. All the hard work, all the meanings and codes, all the presents. All for Emily.

Emily.

For the first time in her life an abyss threatened to swallow her entirely.

Uncertainty.

What to do.

What to do now.

What to think.

She couldn't let A play this game on her anymore, but she needed to have a talk with Emily soon.

Maybe on Tuesday when dinner with the Fields and the real birthday had passed.

She wondered if she could wait two more days.

She was shivering, but she was burning as well.

Cold, heat.

World, me.

"Spencer?"

Jumping, she turned around to find Caleb.

"Hey."

"What are you doing here?"

"I needed some fresh air."

"Hanna told me to go looking for you and tell you Aria needs to start with the candles."

Spencer nodded, trying to collect herself. "I'll be there in a sec."

Instead of going back inside, Caleb took a couple of steps in her direction.

"Can I tell you something?"

Spencer shot him one of her famous cutting stares. "I hope it's not one of your relationship tips, Caleb."

It was.

She could see it on his face.

"It's none of my business, I know."

"You're right", she bitchily smiled to him, "it's nobody's business."

He smiled back confidently. "You know", he stated, as if fueled by Spencer's bitchiness, "the truth is I never figured you'd be the kind of girl to just run out to the street to breathe some air."

"And what kind of girl do you figure I am?"

"The kind who'll stay and make everybody shut up."

"That's pretty much me", Spencer agreed, slightly surprised, "so maybe you could just, like, shut up now and leave?"

"Or maybe you could be  _you_  and go back inside to take what's yours."

She grimaced at the thought of her being transparent also for Caleb.

"It's not that easy."

"You planned this whole thing for her", Caleb defended his point, "so it should be that easy."

It should, right?

"But it's not."

"Why are you guys fighting again?"

She exhaled all the air in her lungs. "We're not fighting again."

"Then why does this weird not-fighting-again always happen to you two?"

"It's complicated." She shot him a sideways glance. "And we're not fighting."

"You guys have been friends forever", he argued, "so that should make it easier, while with Hanna and me it's…"

"No, it makes it worse", she interrupted him, "cause we've always been best friends and now we're not, we're…"

"Girlfriends."

"Yeah."

"So?"

"So I don't really know when I'm supposed to act like the friend or when it's the girlfriend who's gonna take action."

"What's the real difference?"

"You mean besides the obvious?"

"I think we can skip the porn."

She chuckled at his joke. He really was under Hanna's influence.

"I want her to be happy", she shrugged, "I need her to be okay."

"And you want her to be miserable when you're taking the girlfriend role?", he joked. "It doesn't make sense."

She stared at him, wondering if she should tell him. But why not? It wasn't really a big secret, and he'd seen right through her already.

"I want her to be happy with  _me_."

"And that's different?"

"Sometimes it is."

He nodded, thinking about it.

"Then you should go inside and show her it's really the same."

She smiled faintly.

Wasn't that the point of this whole party?

"I'll be there in a sec."

She waited until he went inside the bar thinking she wished she had a cigarette to play with something in her fingers. But she wasn't a smoker. She was just the girl who had to make everybody shut up in the party. In a second.

The air filled her nostrils and her mouth.

It was cold and lonely outside.

She breathed in the world before she made her return to the cave of treasures inside.


	34. In A Haze, In A Stormy Haze

“Hello?”

Aria tapped her fingers on the microphone, the sound of her timid breath echoing around the crowd, and smiled in confidence, watching the work of art which had been her creation.

Two hundred candles separated the stage from the spectators, a see of light in the darkness. The crowd was on the other side. The angry crowd. Only this crowd was not angry but excited (or so she hoped) and the separation was thought of to underline their special offering to the true star of the night. There was a narrow aisle that allowed entrance to the stage on one of the sides. They had all walked the aisle after lighting up every candle with a match, one by one, like a giant birthday cake. Spencer and Caleb too. Hanna too, although she’d decided to stay with the crowd of spectators. Now the three of them were the figures on the cake, so to speak. Otherwise there were lights everywhere around. Lights like quietly burning hearts, wax birthday figures burning for Emily on the cake. There were mirrors covering the wall behind them to perfect and multiply the illusion of an endlessly burning light. She’d even conceived of a reflecting sequined dress that both Spencer and Caleb had considered excessive, tacky and incompatible with their pose as rock stars. Hanna had stood by her, though, but Spencer and Caleb had won. Anyway this was her creation. If only Ezra were here to see. But she had to do without him tonight. Pride invaded Aria because Spencer had finally given in to the idea despite her initial resistance and because Caleb had also agreed to do it, Hanna being the only one who had refused to go and stand up in front of the crowd. Hanna was actually a lot shyer than people thought.  Well, Spencer could be shy too, only when she didn’t dominate the task presented, which didn’t happen very often. However, Aria knew Spencer listened to her and this gift was proof of it. They’d engaged in a long debate, up until they had reached that stage where they all agreed on the same things, even Hanna, although Spencer always had the last word. And Spencer had a beautiful, definitely intriguing voice. Aria had heard her tune on to different songs through the course of time and had always thought that could be another hidden talent of hers, one that Spencer apparently chose to ignore in the belief that a Hastings should dedicate her efforts to serious matters such as… well, studying and breaking into houses. But Spencer… she was having trouble right now. Aria knew Spencer wasn’t drunk with Hanna’s vodka or anything, but she seemed to be in need of screaming at somebody (and that somebody would be McCullers) and this gift had not certainly been thought through as a punk-rock performance, even if Aria had chosen her best badass skull T-shirt to wear on top of her synthetic leopard leggins. Had it been punk, she would’ve chosen a whole different scenario. But this was supposed to be intimate and bright, and it was perfect.

If only Ezra were here to see.

It wasn’t every day that she got to perform in front of a crowd, even if this time she was only going to accompany another person with her musical skills.

“Hey!” She approached the microphone as a way to sum up the crowd. “You guys!”

The exclamation caused an strident screech which made Aria back off from the porous black device. However, everybody turned to watch them, and she spotted Emily advancing towards the stage with a startled expression. Paige McCullers followed her behind.

Aria crossed her fingers.

Spencer had better not start screaming I-hate-all-of-you punk-rock right now.

“Hey guys”, Aria repeated, away from the microphone, “hey Em.”

Some people shouted back hey in enthusiasm and encouragement. One whistled unsuccessfully before screaming in the direction of the stage.

“WHO’S THE HOT DUDE?”

And that was Hanna, of course.

“The hot dude’s Caleb Rivers”, Aria explained to the microphone, which was behaving well now that she’d found the appropriate separation between them, “on the guitar.”

“Property of Hanna Marin!”, Mona yelled in her characteristic Hanna-related happiness from her position next to the blonde. “Do not touch!”

“And no, we’re not touching him”, Aria winked in their direction, “we’re just borrowing him for a little something we’re offering you guys, only it’s not for you guys, it’s for Emily.”

She directed her gaze to Emily, who had never looked more wide-eyed and wide-mouthed than at this very moment.

On the other hand, Spencer had never looked more terrified to be in front of a public audience, so Aria guessed she’d have to keep going although that was Spencer’s cue to come in and take charge of the introduction.

A masculine voice asked what they were going to sing.

“You’ll see what it is in a moment”, Aria answered, still hoping for Spencer to speak, “you guys are gonna flip.”

She should shut up. Spencer should talk.

Caleb shot her a weird glance, possibly implying it was impossible to flip with the song they were going to play tonight. Maybe she should have said they were going to love it? To melt with it? To drool over it?

“Em, this is for you”, she rephrased, looking again at Emily, who finally managed to close her mouth and tentatively smile back, “we love you.”

Apparently out of excitement over Emily’s special birthday present, some people shouted Emily’s name in a craze, followed by a happy birthday tune and what wanted to be a sexy whistle.

Someone asked if they were all going to strip down while singing happy birthday to Em.

Someone asked if Caleb was going to strip - and it wasn’t Hanna.

Well, this was definitely causing a riot in the birthday crowd.

Emily herself seemed unsure about what to do, but she opened her mouth to blurt out something none of them could hear.

 _You’re crazy_.

That was what Aria could read on her lips, but she wasn’t certain of it.

 _You’re crazy_.

Emily was looking at Spencer as her lips moved and, even if Aria couldn’t totally grasp Emily’s flow of emotions in detail because of the imposed lighted distance that was her artful creation, she was absolutely sure Emily was both blushing and beaming by now. Beaming in that bronze light that was typical of Emily’s exotic beauty.

That was, precisely, what they were aiming for.

The sea of light, the abyss of love, was keeping them separated in more than one way.

But the wall of sound would reunite them.

Oh, how she loved this creation of hers.

Aria stole a glance at Spencer, checking out on her mental state that she couldn’t totally grasp. All this power-couple trouble had to end at least for tonight. Besides, there was no better way to pee around Emily than to sing a song to her in front of everybody. Aria understood jealousy. She’d wanted to kill Jackie Molina when she’d found out she was working next to Ezra at Hollis; she’d wanted to kill Ezra too because he’d been engaged to her and he never told her, and not only that but all the rest, and that bitch… anyway that wasn’t the problem right now. The problem was Spencer. Spencer had to sing. Spencer had to stop herself from exploding. It couldn’t happen tonight. Not with this beautiful thing. This had to be an explosion of light. An implosion of light. What was the difference? She wished she could turn around and ask Spencer. But they were all in their posts and she couldn’t move and ask such a question, so she decided to continue her speech and introduced Spencer, who still looked livid and stiff, as the main vocalist and herself on the keyboards and accompanying vocals, while praying to the deity of music and song for Spencer to recover her nerve.

Deity of music and song.

Was that Apollo?

Whatever it was, please make Spencer sound right.

If not, she would have to sing the song for Emily, which would look weird as hell, because, well… because. It was just not the right thing to do. But Spencer had made her promise in case she panicked. Aria knew Spencer never actually panicked, though.

Enthusiasm arose again after the introduction.

“KILL IT, HASTINGS”, Mona cheered again, “PUMP UP THE WORLD!”

After Mona’s creepy declaration of admiration for Spencer, there was a silence while the whole crowd seemed to wait for Spencer to finally take the lead and say the final word.

All Spencer did, however, was sit on a stool and adjust the microphone to her newfound shorter stature.

“Spence”, Aria encouraged, “wanna say something before we go for it?”

Spencer nodded, clearing her throat.

“Yeah.”

The answer sounded weak.

Spencer leaned down to drink from a bottle (which Aria hoped contained water), and straightened her posture on the stool.

Something in the air changed.

The classic ballerina got ready to shoot a rocket, and Aria smiled in pride for her friend.

Spencer took a long, quiet breath before fixating her ever powerful stare on the bronze statue of beaming light.

“This is dedicated to rusty bikes”, she said slowly, “and to Emily Fields for her seventeenth birthday.”

The most impressive silence conquered the room before Caleb strung the first chords of his guitar, a soft, timid tempo picking up and lasting for a few seconds on its own, almost like a shy knock on the door.

You could hear people holding their breath.

You could hear people not wanting to cough.

You could hear everybody shutting up, this amazing, breathtaking collection of silences only broken by this guy who took a candle in his hand and lifted his arm in the air, causing Aria to slightly frown at the disarrangement of her sea of lights before she got mesmerized by Spencer’s murmur when the voice of her friend actually broke the ice to rasp the air, not a scream but a whisper stringing the same sounds Caleb was stealing from the guitar, neither an explosion nor an implosion but the most delicate hair-raising scratch Aria had ever heard in her life, coming from a person who usually went straight to the point with a direct punch. This was different, though. This was the real Spencer stripping down in front of an audience, and this was their gift, the gift Aria had convinced Spencer to offer to Emily in front of all these people, some of them still unknown to her, most of them greatly distrusted by her. _In a haze, in a stormy haze,_ the voice trembled gently, wavering in uncertainty before managing to steady itself, _I’ll be around, I’ll be loving you always,_ it enunciated in the best American-Shakespeare diction, and then the second _always_ was slurred in a solid promise of infinity.

 _Always_.

Guitar and voice knocking on Emily’s door.

Emily’s eyes welled up to the point she felt her lungs were going to stop breathing and her ears were going to block every sound with the emotion.

_Here I am and I take my time._

_Here I am and I wait in line._

Wait in line.

Spencer hated to wait in line. Spencer just never waited. And, when she actually had to wait, you had to feed her to prevent her from transforming into a bad mean cranky person.

 _Always_.

 _Always_.

She had nothing to grab to support herself, and she felt someone take her hand.

Rescue.

But she didn’t want anyone’s touch.

When she turned, it was Hanna squeezing her arm so strongly it hurt too much too, but it was only because she couldn’t breathe and she was struggling to keep listening.

Guitar and voice flowed together in a common gentle dance to their end, like a trail of smoke, so sweet and shy, and was that everything there was to offer tonight, this whisper of a promise that was not trying to impose itself on anyone? This quiet knock in case you had heard. This anti-Caesar honest piece of stubbornness and pride. This slice of a naked Spencer they were all getting for free. It had only lasted some seconds, a minute maybe. Soon, before every sound disappeared and while nobody dared move or breathe, unable to discern if the song had already ended and that was it and if they should applaud the performance, the smoke immediately transformed into a stronger sound that created a completely different tempo. Aria and her keyboards came in with all the sassy naiveté Aria possessed, opening the door without asking for Emily’s permission. Energy moved through the air while Caleb picked up on the new rhythm with the guitar. Dam, dam, dam. A harder knock, a set of resolved bangs. This was not timid but a firm declaration of instruments that was immediately summoned by the scratchy voice, which took over the pace and acutely tried to gain control of the battalion of sound while simultaneously commanding Emily, and everyone else around who was here to witness this moment of strip-down celebration, to look at the stars and see how they shone for Emily Fields, how they shone because Emily was once born and kept existing. _And they were all yellow_ , Spencer sang in complete bravery now, exhaling more air and infusing more volume, attempting to really lead the vocal part of the song. All the stars in the night sky, orange and white and bluish and red and also yellow like the room created by Aria’s imagination, and also Albireo, the double star, and all the people who had come to this party, they were all here because Emily existed, because Emily came into this earth to be illuminated by this light. _I came along, I sang a song for you_ , Spencer unravelled in pure honesty, because that was what she was doing, she was singing right now, _and all the things you do_ , all the things Emily ever did and all the things Spencer had ever done, _and it was called yellow_. The song was called like that.

Whatever yellow was.

This was Aria’s cue to accompany Spencer and the two voices mutually joined with the absolute distinctiveness they owned, one sweet and melodious, the other one deep and low.

 _Your skin, your skin and bones_ , they sang in perfect unison, _turn into something beautiful._

They were singing the same thing.

A beautiful brain.

A beautiful nose and a beautiful hand and a beautiful eye and beautiful abs and a beautiful heart.

Even a beautiful ass.

And rusty bikes.

Rusty bikes, not clumsy people.

Emily sobbed, and Hanna squeezed her tighter.

 _And you_.

_You know I love you so._

Emily did know, was sure of it, never once doubted it anymore.

Maybe she should doubt it, maybe she should get competition.

She didn’t deserve a thing like this.

She was this crappy piece of a girlfriend right now, trying to get back on her feet and catch the train to the future.

Tears streamed along Emily’s face, escaping the rigid control she’d come to master in the last weeks of her self-imposed downfall.

Yes, of course she knew.

She knew what Spencer meant.

She knew why Spencer was doing this.

Because she’d told her she was a star and no one else.

Because she was falling apart and on the verge of sinking for real in the disaster of high-school A-life, because Spencer was not going to let that happen to her, because she would always look out for her.

Because they were holding on to each other and that was what they did best, even if lately Emily wasn’t doing it that well for Spencer and she couldn’t stand it, even if Spencer was somehow not so sure of her, was she not so sure of her? Was that why she had danced with Brian Pierson, to put the pressure on her, to show off it took only a second to manage some competition, of which Emily was also certain and never once doubted? But now she wanted to make sure to tell her this was for her and they would always be them no matter how rusty the bike had gotten to be (it was Emily’s fault), always, always?

Always.

Spencer’s voice broke and fell out of tune for a moment before steadying itself again.

Her brown hair fell down in a cascade over the pale light on the left side of her face, partly covering the complicated nose like the crescent moon.

Always.

Whatever always was.

 _It’s true,_ they sang in the final moments, _look how they shine for you_.

Yes, Emily knew what Spencer meant.

That the only reason Spencer was a star was because Emily had seen her.

That she shone for her.

Stars.

Stars and them.

This was the song she could have sung for Spencer if singing had ever occurred to her when she was thinking about presents on Spencer's birthday. Instead she gave her the star and the pendant. Words were not really her thing. But that was why Spencer was singing this to her. Spencer was a star. Spencer was _her_ star.

Everything Spencer did she did for a reason and with a purpose.

_It’s true._

Everything Spencer did was meant to either show or hide a point.

 _Look how they shine for you_.

She was showing all her points now, all her arguments and reasons.

She was showing all her cards.

She was also calling her on it, in a way, in the most special way she’d found.

Emily sunk her face on Hanna’s neck while the song died its death in multiple, constant repetitions of the last line, and now she allowed Hanna to hug her. She hadn’t been this close to Hanna in weeks. First Hanna had gotten rightfully pissed at her, and then she’d been keeping her distance from Hanna because Hanna also had the ability to either question her decision or break her with a silent look, like tonight she had murdered her with her blue rays in a couple of occasions just because she was talking to Paige in a corner instead of interacting with other people who had come.

But now.

Now.

She needed Hanna.

She knew Hanna’s role was to get close to her and keep an eye on her.

“’S okay”, Hanna shushed, both worried and surprised, “Em, it’s not bad.”

“I know”, Emily sobbed more quietly, because obviously it was good and she was embarrassing herself so badly, “it’s perfect.”

Of course.

It was something Spencer was doing, so what else could it be?

Perfect.

Her star.

All the things they had done together.

All the things they had done alone.

“It’s okay”, Hanna repeated, wrapping her arms around Emily and sending a desperate look to Aria, “I told them to sing something happier and sexier.”

“It’s beautiful”, Emily replied in a firmer voice, “and it’s sexy too.”

It was sexy too.

Because she was wearing _that_ dress and singing with _that_ voice.

But of course Hanna wouldn’t get that.

The song ended and there was a huge applause, but it took only a moment for Spencer to get down the stage and run to Emily’s side with an expression of panicked concern.

They fell into each other’s arms as soon as Hanna released Emily.

“You’re crazy.”

“What’s wrong?”

Emily felt Spencer’s vague breath of alcohol on her cheek.

“Nothing.”

“Why’re you crying so hard?”

“When did you learn to sing?”

She sensed the shadow of Spencer’s smile, and it made her smile too.

“Is it that bad?”

“No”, Emily laughed, “no, it’s that good.”

Soon Aria and Caleb appeared and she hugged them too, and she thanked them too for this moment, but she was careful not to lose the grip on Spencer’s hand this time.

Soon other people appeared, other people talking to both of them.

People.

People.

People talking, hugging, smiling - flattering them both.

She stole her, dragging her to the restroom with the excuse that she really needed to go fix her make-up after all that crying and sobbing. She stole her because she was hers to steal.

Securing the door, Emily returned Spencer’s questioning gaze.

“Yellow?”, Emily asked just to start conversation, her voice still nasal and congested after crying her heart out out there. “What’s with that?”

“I know it’s weird”, Spencer nodded, letting herself be dragged closer to her. “I had this big argument with Aria because I didn’t want you to think we were all dying of a liver infection, so that’s how she came up with the idea for the candles… you know, so there’s light, which is sort of yellow, right?”

Of course Spencer had to have the whole song figured out before singing it.

Emily could feel her spirit skyrocketing for one single night, and she laughed at Spencer’s comment.

“So the song was Aria’s choice?”

“No, it was mine”, Spencer replied, smiling back in satisfaction, “but I made up a list of songs for you and we chose together, Han too.”

“So there’s more for me?”

“There’s a list.”

“Where?”

“My room.”

“Can I ever see it?”

She wanted to see it so badly.

She wanted to go back to that room so badly right now.

“Yeah.”

“And can I get a private concert?”

The small smirk on Spencer’s lips.

So lovely.

“Maybe.”

They stared at each other for a long moment until Emily pulled her even closer.

“So this was my birthday present?”

“One of them.”

“This dress too.”

She made sure to sound close to dirty. She hadn’t totally forgotten how to try.

“You noticed?”

“How could I ever forget?”

“My legs.”

“Your legs.”

It was about time to tell the truth about the dress and that night.

“I knew it.”

“You win.”

Spencer hummed, suspicious of an easy victory. “Are you making it up?”

She closed the distance and tasted the alcohol in Spencer’s mouth.

“When did you drink?”

Spencer looked down, her cheeks firing pink. “I had some of Hanna’s vodka to sort of get the courage to do it.”

Her eyes went darker, though.

“You were scared?”

“It’s not like I know how to sing.”

“It’s more like you _also_ know how to sing.”

“So you liked it?”

Like?

It was more than that. She felt broken and happy at the same time. It was strange, this night.

“You’re more skin and bones than me, you know.”

She knew she was offering herself for a lecture which she was going to love.

“We’re all skin and bones cause we’re all human”, Spencer started, apparently unaware of Emily’s trick, “but the song’s telling you you’re more than that, everything else is less than you, everything’s here for you, and you outlast every beautiful thing in the world.”

Wow.

Spencer did know how to make a speech.

“Everything else is less than me?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t agree with that.”

“Blame the song.”

“So you’re the star who’s shining for me?”

This time Emily went straight for it and the dark hazel shade danced in response.

“Sort of, yeah”, Spencer admitted, “that’s it.”

“Learned the lesson.”

“One of them.”

“When can I get the rest?”

“Tomorrow”, Spencer pulled back a little, obviously pretending to leave it for later. “Homework.”

Emily knew Spencer was pulling that one off to make her ask for the presents directly.

“Fine”, she shrugged, accepting the bet, “tomorrow.”

“Wanna see them now?”

There was never a doubt Spencer was the anxious one. No matter how much she sang about it, she didn’t know how to take her time and wait in line without getting extremely impatient.

Emily secretly smiled at the realization of a new victory.

They left the restroom and walked together towards a door in front of which Spencer stopped, looking around suspiciously as she pulled out a key.

Inside, everybody had put their presents.

The room looked like a candy store.

Colors.

Blues, greens, reds.

Whites.

Everything was so shiny and life-inspiring. So celebrating and birthday-singing and yet so hidden and left apart, their own personal bubble in the roaring bar where Katy Perry was singing to the one that got away.

Closing the door behind her, Emily observed Spencer reach out over a sea of presents for a fashionable Vera Wang bag.

“Vera Wang?”

“What?” Spencer glanced down at the bag. “It’s Hanna’s. She gave it to me.”

It made sense.

They both seemed to think about what to do next. Spencer was considering different possibilities, her brain working too fast on them.

“It’s nothing fancy”, she finally said, “and they’re not cute like the ones you gave me.”

Was that insecurity?

Yes, it was.

She was nervous.

So lovely.

“They?”

Spencer narrowed her eyes. “You were so sure, huh?”

Emily giggled. “I was”, she certified. “But after what you just did I expect more than fancy and cute, I expect royally awesome.” Nothing could ever beat that song, which had been completely unexpected. But she was going to enjoy this ride of presents. “Can I see?”

Spencer nodded, obviously accepting it was up to Emily to judge the quality and opportunity of every present.

“It’s not like the song”, she affirmed anyway, pulling out the first present from the bag like a skinny and beardless Santa Claus, “I mean, really, they’re not like yours.”

“Are you competing with me?”

Spencer smiled a little. “Probably.”

“Well, in that case”, Emily replied, taking the gift covered in a formal brown paper in her hand and trying to get a peek out of the Vera Wang bag, “I believe we can agree you already won, so just let me open it and see.”

Because of its shape and general look, Emily knew it was a book even before touching it.

Obviously.

“ _Heart is a lonely hunter 2_?”, she joked, knocking softly on it to prove it made an opaque sound. “Older edition?”

Spencer shook her head, watching her intensely. “I have more imagination than that.”

Emily eagerly ripped off the paper.

An old hard-cover copy of _Julius Caesar_.

“Not much more, though”, Spencer anxiously added, observing Emily open the book, “I mean, I know it’s not romantic or anything. It’s kinda _not_ romantic at all, it’s…”

“Shakespeare.”

Shakespeare was better than Dickens.

Spencer sent her the kind of look that said she had guessed that thought and agreed with it.

“I realize it’s kinda not okay because you were drunk the night you quoted the play but...”

“I did not quote _Julius Caesar_ ”, Emily laughed, “but it _is_ okay.”

She didn’t exactly remember that part of the night very well. She did remember Spencer had lectured her on some secrets of the play, though.

Spencer opened her mouth in shock.

“You so totally _did_.”

“I remember you talked to me about the play.”

“ _Beware the Ides of March, Spencer_ ”, Spencer recited Emily’s quotation that night, “that’s what you said when I found you. My heart was gonna be murdered that night by my own personal Emily Brutus.”

Ouch.

“Emily Brutus sounds bad.”

“Sorry about that, but you did imply it.” Spencer smiled brightly. “Emily Gracious sounds better, but you said it anyway.”

“I was drunk”, Emily argued, smiling in return to the Gracious remark, “plus, I kinda think that line’s not Brutus’.”

She did remember it from the times she read the play in class. Some kind of fortune teller kept warning Caesar about the act of treason the senators were going to commit.

“So you do admit to quoting the play?”

Yes, all right.

“You told me you were Rome.”

“I had to use a very complicated line of reasoning to drag you out of that parking lot.” She seemed to realize something. “Like tonight.”

That was true.

“You’re not Caesar”, Emily said, reflecting on it, “you’re more like Marc Anthony.”

Spencer cocked her brow. “The singer?”

“What?”

Spencer let out a brief laugh, enjoying the confusion on Emily’s face.

“And why the change?”

“Not the singer”, Emily protested, not really sure who Spencer was talking about, but then proceeded to explain, “he wins the war, doesn’t he?”

It turned out she remembered more things about the play she originally thought. Probably because of that night she had to keep talking about it to her parents, in Texas, during the summer.

After that restroom experience.

Oh, god.

“Yes, he does.”

“There you go.”

“I love how you keep reshaping Shakespeare and suiting him to your momentary needs.”

Emily smiled in all slyness. “You just turned _Julius Caesar_ into a romantic play, so I figured I could change some things too.”

“Funny.”

But they weren’t exactly laughing about it.

“So?”

“So”, Spencer continued, “my point here, I guess, is this is actually romantic because… well, the night was supposed to be a disaster but…”

When she stuttered like this.

So lovely.

So fucking lovely.

“It was our first time.”

Pink.

“Exactly.”

“Nothing can beat that”, Emily smiled, feeling strange happy tears stinging her eyes while her heart raced in her chest, wanting to get close to erase the bad moments of their relationship with new kisses and new first times, “right?”

Spencer looked relieved, as though she had passed the first obstacle.

“That’s what I figured.”

“I love it.”

“Really? I mean, it’s kinda nerdy.”

“I love nerdy when it’s _your_ nerdy.”

Spencer approached her, leaving the bag behind. “There’s something else inside.”

Emily had already closed the book, but she opened it again.

“A dedication?”

Grabbing the book gently and offering it back once she had selected the first page, Spencer pointed at her neat, clean handwriting in black ink.

“It’s not mine, it’s Shakespeare again”, she whispered, “Sonnet 18.” Smirking in all self-contentment, she made her point. “And that _is_ romantic.”

“ _Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?_ ”, Emily read aloud, trying to enunciate the words properly. “It was the summer, our first time.”

She looked up at Spencer, who took a moment to remember the rest.

“ _But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou owest_.” Spencer paused, wondering if she should go on or stop there. She decided to stop and explain it. “And all that poetic jazz which basically translates as you’re the most beautiful person ever and your beauty will be saved forever in this sonnet, which is also less than you, because everything else is less than you in my eyes.”

Less than you.

Always.

In my eyes.

This time it was Emily who felt the blush creeping up her cheeks, and she tried to swallow it down.

“Again with the beauty.”

“In a very broad sense.”

Spencer probably felt forced to clarify that after the look-yourself-in-the-mirror joke earlier tonight.

“How broad?”

“Very, very broad.”

“As in you’re-too-good broad?”

Spencer seemed to be caught in surprise for a second. “Yes.”

Emily gave a shy nod, feeling really not that beautiful in the most important sense, feeling she was lucky to be told these things by the most significant person in her life, feeling though that she needed to do something else, say something equally grand in response, turn into someone equally magnificent to the person she had in front of her.

Before she could utter a word of true gratitude Spencer reached out for the bag and pulled out the next present. This one was wrapped in a cute _Toy Story_ gift paper. She was missing the cuteness in the gift-paper department up until this moment.

It was a plain box from where little Buzz Lightyears and little Woodys smiled.

“So cute”, Emily exclaimed, admiring the paper, “another one to save.”

Spencer handed out the box.

“I looked for a Sherlock and Watson one, but I couldn’t find it.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go for a Shakespeare one”, Emily mocked her, “or for a Churchill one.”

“Didn’t find those either.”

“This one’s cuter.”

She took a long time to unwrap the box because she did want to keep this gift paper.

 _The Ides of March’_ DVD.

It was amazing. All the arranged set of presents had a meaning to their story, even the gift paper.

“We can finally see the movie”, Emily said, but tried to give it another turn, “or not.”

“It’s kinda foolish, I know”, Spencer replied, her forehead creasing as if she wasn’t entirely pleased with her own decisions, “but I thought we could, you know, watch it someday.” She seemed to give it some consideration. “Or not, like you just said.”

They were _really_ rusty.

But there was something off too. Maybe it was Spencer’s nervousness over the presents. She was the kind of person who put a lot of pressure on herself in order to find perfection. Emily wondered how long Spencer had been thinking about this and trying to fit every little detail to compose a coherent whole, then questioning if it was the best she could actually do.

“I’d rather go for the _or not_ part of watching it”, Emily tried harder, bordering the dirty-talk possibility. When could they _not_ watch it? Tomorrow wasn’t a good day because they were supposed to do homework before dinner and her academic survival was at stake. If only it could happen tonight. That was what she wanted. “It’d be great to watch it tonight.”

God, just the thought of it made her see stars. Stars shining _for_ her and _inside_ of her and all she wanted was to spend some time looking at them, or rather touching them.

“We can always visit the restroom again.”

A furious blush covered her cheeks and nose after Spencer’s direct blow.

“There’s also this room.”

Spencer gave her a weird look, both questioning and fiery. There was caution in that look too; surprise; an odd intensity, similar to anger and passion when they fought or when they made love; things Emily didn’t exactly know how to name, but wanted to find a response to. However, instead of finding a response to her doubts, Emily saw Spencer lean down and reach for another present. It was a much smaller box, wrapped in the same _Toy Story_ paper, and Spencer extended her arm as if the gift was burning her hand.

“This is the last one.”

Emily nodded, taking the offering but staring at Spencer. What was going on? Was this because of the presents or because of the almost blunt allusion to sex?

“What is it?”, she stupidly asked.

“Just open it”, Spencer said nervously, “if you don’t like it I can go change it.”

Nervousness again.

What for?

The presents were all adorable and meaningful just like Spencer was. They were a reminder of everything they had. There was no reason for her not to like them.

“Why wouldn’t I like it?”

Spencer frowned. She seemed worried about it. “I got it a while ago.”

“So?”

She opened the box quickly, not caring about the paper this time. She wanted to see why Spencer was worried and show her she was going to love anything she gave her. Inside the box there was a silver bracelet, from which it hanged a small dolphin.

No, not a dolphin.

A shark.

A shark which could be confused with a dolphin with a little cute fin and little cute slits. It was the first time she saw something like this. That was why Spencer was so worried.

“Wow.”

“We can change it, as I said”, Spencer was fast to add, “I mean… I got it before you quit.”

She looked up from the shark to her, wanting to sound reassuring. “I don’t wanna change it.”

“You don’t have to feel forced to accept it.”

Was the swim team the cause of all this?

“Spencer, it’s beautiful”, Emily raised her voice a little, “and I would never change it. How could you find something like this?”

“I had it made.”

“Seriously?”

“I had this silver key my dad gave me years ago”, Spencer explained, “you know, after I won a trophy at this spelling contest, but I couldn’t find anything so personal that was mine to give you, so I had this idea of a thing that would be unique, you know, no one else could have it, and I thought about having it made into a star so it would suit your idea of me or whatever, but I wanted it to be about you, not about me, so I came up with this.” She stopped to breathe. “And then you quit.”

All the things they had done together. All the things they had done alone.

Emily swallowed tears.

“It’s…” She’d run out of words, but she had to find them. “Sounds like something you’d do.”

“I thought about changing it but then…”

This constant sorry, this off feeling - it had to end. She couldn’t believe Spencer was feeling so troubled because of this, and it had to be her fault.

She took a step forward, stopping really close.

“Thank you.”

Then she closed the bracelet around her wrist, hoping it would put down all of Spencer’s worries.

“At this point I’m incredibly glad that you don’t hate it.”

It sounded a little too dry.

“How could I hate it?”, Emily asked, and she felt this question was condensing a heavy meaning that could be key to their problem. “I mean, it’s super cute… and you’re giving it to me, and I…”

She couldn’t end the sentence.

“You what?”

“I was a shark.”

“You’re still one”, Spencer said, her voice trembling a little, “cause there’s more than one meaning to it.”

They locked eyes.

“What’s the other meaning?”, Emily asked with drained curiosity. Go figure whatever Spencer had thought about this. “That I eat fish?”

“That you’re brave.”

Emily hated the constant sensation of tears overflowing her throat because right now she just wanted this awkwardness gone between them.

Weak-link.

And all the things that you do.

Spencer.

“You’re the only thing I wanna be brave about.”

It sounded so heartfelt it took Spencer by surprise.

“You’ve always been brave about me”, Spencer offered, smiling faintly, “my love shark.”

They laughed a little.

“Why’re you so nervous?”

Spencer exhaled all the air she’d seemingly held in her lungs for the last couple of minutes.

“You noticed?”

“You look like you’re giving me a ticking bomb, Spencer.”

Spencer looked away, pursing her lips a little. “It’s the presents”, she explained, “I just… I wasn’t sure they were the right ones.”

Fingers dared touching fingers.

“There’s something else, right?”

“It’s tonight”, Spencer answered after an instant of hesitation, not shying away, “it’s been a difficult night.”

Lifting her hand to Spencer’s jaw, Emily caressed the pale skin.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“I know it’s you”, Spencer replied, her tone low but strained, “it’s the same you who didn’t wanna be in Rosewood tonight.”

Emily guessed the plan had been complicated to execute, given her whiny reticence to set a foot on their hometown.

“It’s still me.”

She leaned in for a soft kiss, which was timidly returned this time.

“You’re not hating all of this?”, Spencer tried to confirm again. “For real?”

“You’re my birthday present”, Emily answered instead, “you’re the only present I want.”

The words were powerful because the kiss that followed them was considerably more passionate and heated.

But Spencer broke it off.

Apparently she wasn’t entirely convinced yet.

“We should go back to the party.”

“We’re gonna go back in a second”, Emily tried to hold her, “let’s stay one more minute.”

A second.

A minute.

Sixty seconds. Hours. Days, weeks, months. All the time.

Spencer stayed, her fingers landing on Emily’s purple dress.

“And this dress?”, she asked with playful interest. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“It’s new. I bought it for our fake night out.”

She bought it for Spencer, because Spencer had complained about her never wearing sexy dresses for her after that awful night when she chased A in the woods and got ambushed and Spencer found her and then they talked about the girl in the bar.

Supermodel dress, Spencer had said in reproach-mode.

“It’s…” Spencer dedicated some time to think of the word, which was strange for her, “you look absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Am I?”

Spencer looked intrigued by the question. “Always.”

Always.

Always was good, but what about _now_? What about this moment - tonight - this minute?

“I wanna sleep with you so bad”, Emily blurted out, feeling excessively bold and also maybe too dirty because she was saying it like this and not in a tricky, not-watch-the-movie way, “can’t we sleep together tonight?”

Spencer raised her flag-brows. “You mean sleep-sleep? Or sex?”

“What do you think I mean?”

“I think you mean sex.”

“And you are right.”

Spencer’s fingers travelled up the dress, causing an inner revolution in Emily’s body.

“I also want to”, she whispered almost shyly, “but we can’t tonight.”

Emily knew. Her parents were here and she had to stay with them at the hotel.

The idea of this room wildly crossed her mind, and not as a dare.

But it was crazy.

It was crazy.

She leapt on her, attacked her, bounced on her like a dog on a cat or a cat on a mouse, and Spencer moaned in surprise as she quickly tried to readjust her position not to fall on the sea of presents. It was a full-on real kiss, and there was nothing shy or reserved about it. Make-up was ruined for both of them. Rust was cleaned up and erased. The remnants of Hanna’s vodka were passed from one mouth to the other. Now or never always meant now.

Always meant now.

Their foreheads touched when they both stopped to breathe.

“So I guess you did like the presents”, Spencer said, her lips parted to receive the next kiss, “didn’t you?”

“I liked them.”

“That’s a pretty clear statement.”

“I’m a pretty clear kisser.”

Spencer blinked. “You used to be.”

Wait.

“I used to be?”

Was she _that_ rusty?

“Can I ask you a question?”

Emily pulled away a little, a premonition in her heart.

“Sure.”

“Is there a reason you’re kissing me like this when you’ve hardly kissed me in the last three weeks?”

Not a premonition, but a tinge of remorse.

“We’re kissing.”

“Yeah, tonight”, Spencer accused, “but what about all those other days I’ve practically had to chase you around to get a minimum percentage of pecks on the lips?”

“No”, Emily denied, “it’s never been like that.”

“Never?”

She swallowed not the constant tears but the boldness and the craziness and the remorse at once.

“It’s…”

“I just wanna know why.”

“You’ve never had to chase me.”

Spencer stared straight at her, her posture suddenly tense. “Can we focus on the facts?”

Taking a couple of steps back in resignation, Emily nodded. She guessed this was where the whole condensation of meaning was heading for the last while, not to heavy make-out.

“You’re right”, she admitted, “but it’s… I can’t explain why.”

“You can try.”

Emily nodded again, crossing her arms.

“Sex doesn’t solve problems”, she said out loud, almost as if she were repeating a lesson, “I know it sounds stupid, but you said that and…"

Spencer widened her eyes after taking the words in. “So it’s _my_ fault?”

“No, no, it’s not, it’s mine, it’s… I’m stupid.”

“I said that in a _very_ specific moment.”

“Yeah, and I thought about it and...”

“I never said it with the purpose of turning sex into _another_ problem for us”, Spencer fired back, raising her voice in astonishment. She was obviously expecting another answer. “And since when is a kiss sex in your own set of definitions?”

Since never.

But Spencer was really upset about it. So maybe it wasn’t only the presents and maybe it wasn’t only the swim team but also the kiss and everything else (sex) and she wasn’t as stupid and blind as to _not_ guess it was hurting her.

She was a crappy piece of a girlfriend.

“A kiss is not sex.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“But it makes me think about it”, Emily tried to explain, her voice shaky, “constantly.”

Spencer seemed truly surprised. “So when it makes you think about it you decide to stop kissing me altogether?”

“I _never_ decided that.”

“Fine, I’m sorry, let me rephrase”, Spencer used her best analytical attack-mode voice, “you just happened to stop it and I didn’t get to know why, so I had to fight for every touch of your lips and then feel embarrassed and creepy about it because I was thinking you probably were feeling too bad about quitting the team, or too mad at me for whatever I had done or said?” She shot her a piercing look. “Does that sound better to you?”

Emily looked down to the floor covered of presents, trying to hide from the bullets.

But no hiding was justifiable now.

Love-shark.

She stared back into Spencer’s fiery eyes.

“It was never about something you had done.”

“Then it was about something _you_ had done.”

The swim team.

“Yes”, Emily accepted, “about my decision to quit, and I knew you didn’t agree with me and I didn’t wanna use sex to change your mind so I just tried to control myself, and…”

“Use sex?”, Spencer interrupted. “Do you use sex to change my mind about things?”

“No, I don’t, I just…”

“Emily, what the hell are you talking about?”

Emily leaned back against the door and grunted in frustration, feeling like the most stupid and unwillingly cruel person in the world. She knew Spencer couldn’t take rejection, yet she made her feel rejected even if all she was trying to do was not to… god, she couldn’t even explain what she was trying to do anymore.

“I don’t know”, she answered, “it made sense somehow, that I… we didn’t agree, and I didn’t wanna use sex to hide from the problem against you...”

“Against me?”

“You said I could jump like a monkey and you’d still like me.”

Spencer widened her eyes again, frowned like she was squeezing her brain to a limit, and raised her voice all at once.

“That meant something completely different!”

“I _know_ ”, Emily replied in true remorse, “but somehow I couldn’t stop thinking about sex so I tried to control it until our problem was solved and we agreed on it, but the problem was never solved and we have another problem now.” Okay, at least she’d tried to explain her decision in its absolute stupidity. “But I never wanted you to think I didn’t wanna kiss you, cause that’s all I want to do all the time.”

Absolute, absolute stupidity.

“That’s what you want to do all the time?”

Spencer didn’t seem so upset anymore, just completely confused.

“More than that.”

“More than that?”

Sometimes she felt like she was going to lose it in school and go plain crazy in a sexual rage for Spencer, so she had to keep thinking about something else, but then she couldn’t really stand thinking about the swim team either and sex and the swim team had been forbidden from her thoughts. Still they kept trying to make their way back all the time.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry, just explain it to me.”

“I just wanted to swim first, get the HGH solved, and you were always busy too, but that’s… there’s nothing to explain except I can’t think straight.”

Spencer burst out in laughter.

“It’s not funny”, Emily warned, “really, it’s not.”

“I know it’s not.”

But she was laughing.

“I wanted to fix things tonight”, Emily continued, “I bought this dress, I thought maybe after dinner, and then when you brought me here I thought maybe after the party or even _during_ the party…” She trailed off, amazed at her own craziness. “Shit.”

“Jesus, Emily.”

“I _am_ sorry”, Emily repeated, “but if it makes you feel better, _I’m_ the creep.”

“Well, you’re really good at covering it up.”

“You’re not that bad yourself.”

“No, trust me, there’s a winner here and it’s you.”

Yay.

Spencer leaned against the wall, apparently trying to relax. She looked slightly amused.

“I’m sorry I talked to you like that”, she said, her expression a mix of contrition and amusement. “It’s your birthday and I promised myself I wouldn’t bring it up tonight.” She paused, reflecting on her own faults. “It must’ve been Hanna’s vodka.”

“Is that why you danced with Brian Pierson?”, Emily took the chance to ask.

Pink.

That was a yes.

“Is that his name?”

“It looked like he was keeping you entertained.”

Something in her eyes. Again that caution, that odd fiery intensity, that angry hesitation.

“He was”, Spencer confirmed after a moment, “but you were pretty much getting your own sort of entertainment.”

“What do you mean?”

She’d been talking to a group of swimmers and to Paige.

“I mean Paige McCullers.”

Bingo.

“Oh.”

So this part of their conversation was going to be about Paige? But she wasn’t _dancing_ with Paige. She was just talking to her about the swim team. And Paige had talked to her about this Olympic pool in Thomas of Aquinas college where they could go if she wanted to give swimming a try far from Rosewood High.

“Did you two reach a conclusion about the track team you’re thinking of joining?”

Shit.

“How do you know about that?”

“She told me herself”, Spencer commented, her penetrating gaze gaining an intensity almost unknown to Emily, “I’m guessing she assumed I knew about it, but she was wrong.”

“She told me you invited her in person.”

“I did.”

The voice sounded metallic.

“I was pretty surprised you did.”

“Really?”

Emily decided it was time to try a new physical approach. A subtle one. So she took a couple of steps in Spencer’s direction.

“It’s good.”

“What is?”

“That you’re talking to her.”

“Why?”, Spencer shot, tensing up. “Because I’m supposed to talk to your new best friend?”

No, then it wasn’t good.

“Why do you still hate her?”

“I don’t hate her”, Spencer denied, her jaw clenching, “I hate that you’re talking to her and not to me or to Hanna and Aria.”

“I’m not _talking_ to her.”

“But you told her about joining the track team, you told her you were missing the pool.”

Emily felt her legs go Jell-O.

One thing was the kiss-sex rejection, but this part was menacing to get worse.

“I haven’t made up my mind yet”, she mumbled, “and the track team’s a stupid idea.”

“It’s a stupid idea you’re telling Paige about.”

“It’s a stupid idea I told Paige when I _ran_ into her in the pool.”

“About which you never told me _either_.”

“If you knew about it, why didn’t you ask me directly?”

“Cause I’m getting tired of running after you for answers.”

Punch.

The tears didn’t sting, they just flowed out again, and Emily turned her head away.

“I guess that’s what your _always_ means.”

Spencer jumped to grab her wrist quickly. “Sorry.”

“No, just say it”, Emily defied her, “you obviously need it."

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Why am I being interrogated for talking to Paige when I’m not even _really_ talking to her?”

“You spent the first hour of this party talking to her, Emily.”

“About the swim team!”, Emily high pitched in despair. “And if you don’t want me talking to her about that, why the hell did you invite her to _my_ party? So I can give you the pleasure of ignoring her? Is that what you want?”

“Why did I invite her?”, Spencer repeated, her voice still controlled. “Are you asking me that question?”

“Yes.”

“For you”, Spencer said, throwing her arms in the air in impotence, as if it was an evidence of the purest type. “ _For you_ , because you obviously like her and care about her.”

“So why are we fighting about this?”, Emily shot back. “Is it really that important?”

“It is if you’re hiding information from me and every true friend you have!”

Hiding information?

She hated it when Spencer exaggerated things to win an argument.

“Are you sure this is not about you being jealous?”

Spencer backed off at the question, but only for a second.

“No”, she said slowly, but then looked away and bit her lip in nervousness. “Yes.”

Emily felt herself softening up to the ambiguous confession.

“I don’t _like_ her that way, Spencer.”

“But you did.”

“In the past.”

Spencer seemed to be lost in a struggle to understand her own feelings about this.

“It’s not only that”, she finally uttered, “I mean, it’s… You practically had me banned from your body and mind in the last weeks and now you’re _talking_ to her.”

Gosh.

Emily knew she was being a crappy girlfriend, but the banning-thing was just too big an accusation.

“I’m _not_ talking to her like you think I am.”

Spencer shot her a disbelieving look. “Why are you even talking to her at all? I don’t get it.”

“You don’t get what?”

“You”, Spencer said, leaning her back against the wall again. “I don’t get _you_. I mean, this girl tried to _drown_ you once. And then she basically tried to drive you out of this continent to _date_ you, Emily, when she should probably crawl every time she sees you.” She took a pause to think of her own words. “Which she probably does when she’s swimming.”

Emily opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come out easily.

“Why is this important again?”

“Because I don’t get it.”

“Well, there’s nothing to get”, Emily answered, the anger coming back, “she was going through some really serious stuff at that point in her life and she’s not that person anymore.”

Spencer faked a sarcastic smile. “Great, now you defend her. Hello, Stalin.”

“Excuse me?” Blood ran to Emily’s head upon hearing the Stalin remark. “Are you calling me Stalin? Or her?”

“I’m saying you’d probably find an excuse for Stalin’s slightly odd behaviour”, Spencer hit back, “hey, he murdered thirty million people, but Emily says he was going through a hell of a lot when he realized he was _short_ and he wanted to have sex with other _short_ people.”

Emily rolled her eyes explicitly. Besides, she was pretty sure Stalin had not murdered people basing on the fact that he was short; or gay; or whatever.

“So you mean _she_ is Stalin.”

“Just… will you stop defending her?”

“I’ll stop defending her when you stop trying to make it look like this is about her when it’s actually about _us_.”

“Right.”

“No, don’t _right_ me, Spencer, just tell me what it is.”

“I told you what it is.”

“Then let’s forget about Paige and let’s focus on us.”

“That’s all I want you focused on.”

“So let’s focus.”

They focused on each other, but neither of them knew what to say next.

It was Spencer who tried again.

“Look, Emily”, she started, and Emily could see she wasn’t closing the topic yet, “I know what it is to feel unwanted too, okay?”

“Will you stop competing with Paige?”

“All I’m saying”, Spencer went on, not paying attention to Emily’s plea, “is this is not some kind of privilege that only people who have lesbian crushes and swimming skills get to enjoy and understand, all right? I can _understand_ things _too_ ”, she insisted, scowling as if she was truly offended by it. “But I’m not gonna be sorry for being the person I am.”

The strangest combination of sensations invaded Emily.

For once, she wanted to strangle Spencer. But she also wanted to laugh at her comment. And then she also wanted to hug her because she’d said she’d also felt unwanted and Emily knew why that had happened and who was to blame. And then there was this other thing that kept bothering her even when they were fighting: she still wanted to have sex with her here and now, although it seemed unlikely it was going to happen at all.

Finally, she wanted to slap herself for being guilty of this catastrophe.

“I don’t want you to be sorry for being the person you are”, Emily said, pronouncing every word as clearly as possible. “I _love_ who you are, and sometimes, trust me, you can be an idiot.”

Spencer arched her brow at the insult. “Thanks for the kind words.”

“Spencer, you are _not_ waiting in any line”, Emily answered, trying to use the song Spencer sang for her to explain her words better, “you are first in line, and in fact there’s no line at all, so will you just shut up and believe it?”

“I believe it.”

“Then shut up.”

They both shut up, Emily out of exhaustion and Spencer out of astonishment.

“I can’t believe I totally blew this up”, Spencer blurted out with a sudden look of terror, “I totally blew my own plan up.”

Emily, who was leaning against the wall too, turned to look at her.

“You blew what up?”

“Your birthday.”

“It’s fine.”

“Aria’s gonna kill me”, Spencer said. “Not to mention Hanna’s constant violent threats.”

Remembering Hanna’s murderous looks tonight, Emily had a feeling Hanna would be more on Spencer’s side on this one.

“Hanna’s on your side.”

“That’s until she finds out about _this_.”

“Spencer, you didn’t blow it up alone.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Yes, cause we’re together in this”, Emily whispered, approaching her again and touching the fabric of her dress, “and it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, it’s wrong”, Spencer answered, frowning. “I’m getting paranoid.”

Taking Spencer’s hand in hers, Emily drove it back to her own dress and placed it on her stomach.

“Feel that?”

Spencer stared questioningly. “Linen?”

“Every time you’re close”, Emily said, squeezing Spencer’s hand against her stomach, “I get this giant butterfly inside.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitched up. “A giant butterfly?”

“A flock of them.”

“Are they rusty giant butterflies?”

“They’re not rusty, they’re just getting pretty nervous in there.”

Spencer grinned, and her jaw relaxed as she leaned her head softly back against the wall.

“You should see what I have inside my stomach.”

“What is it?”

“It’s probably a flock of vultures.”

Emily couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s crazy.”

“And they’re hungry.”

“Mine too”, Emily dared saying, the butterfly-hormones becoming revolutionized again. “Can they fly together?”

“You mean procreate?”, Spencer asked, turning to look at her again. “You’re getting strangely deep with your metaphors for sex tonight.”

“I said it in every possible way.”

The hazel shade danced again, illuminating the pale-moon face. “Come here.”

She did.

The butterflies in her stomach exploded as their tongues slowly met to make peace, so sweet, always so sweet she couldn’t believe she’d been able to postpone it for so long. She didn’t hope for a sexual session of actual procreation of flocks tonight but at least this kiss was something, or it was until they heard a knock on the door. A timid knock. A timid naked knock like Spencer’s knock on her door when she started singing, unwanted Spencer who was actually wanted beyond all limits and rules, waiting-in-line, taking-her-time Spencer getting impatient with her hungry vulture which Emily wanted to feed right now, feed before midnight, shining Spencer forcing her to look at the stars and to get blinded by them, to burn in them, to get shot in them.

Spencer broke the kiss off.

“Yeah?”, she asked in a loud voice. “Who is it?”

Aria’s big eyes appeared, a hand covering her face to prevent her from witnessing an unforgettable sight.

“I don’t really want to interrupt what I hope is an actual make-out session”, she said, “but Hanna’s threatening to kill you both if you don’t come back for the cake.”

“Shit.”

“We’ll be right there”, Emily promised, “sorry.”

Aria nodded and closed the door.

“They probably think we’ve been having sex the whole time.”

“I wish I could think so too”, Emily said, smoothing out her new dress. “Can we just…?”

Could it happen tomorrow? Or tonight between the party and the hotel? But she didn’t know how to ask. She was supposed to be the shy, sensible, well-behaved one.

“We need to talk first.”

Huge butterfly let-down.

Super bike fall-off.

“Okay.”

“I want to, I’m _dying_ to”, Spencer said, realizing Emily’s crestfallen face, “but we really need to clear some things up before we… you know, let the birds do the flying.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I’m gonna go completely insane if we don’t talk.”

“Yes, we’re gonna talk.”

“We need to have a common strategy on what to do about the team”, Spencer continued anxiously, “and I really, really need to know how you’re feeling about all of this, and…”

“Spencer, I said yes.”

Spencer gave a satisfied nod. “Great.”

“It’s fine.”

“Then we can find a place for…" 

“After talking.”

“Right after.”

Emily smiled, enjoying Spencer’s anxiety in that area too. “Yeah.”

She made the effort to move first, since all of this was her fault and since this party had been celebrated in her honor. But she made sure to hold Spencer’s hand all the way back to the restroom to finally fix her make-up. She squeezed it, she tightened it, and Spencer squeezed and tightened in response. Hanna appeared, though, to freak out at them and also to steal them, but she allowed Emily to spend five more minutes in front of the mirror because fixing a destroyed make-up was a kind of urgency Hanna felt sympathy for, especially if the make-up destroyed was that one of the birthday person. Spencer was robbed with the promise of a prompt return.

Emily sat on the toilet-seat cover, thinking about this strange night.

They had to talk.

She had to talk to Spencer about what was going on inside her.

But what was going on inside her was mainly a negative feeling of failure and basically the conviction that she was a huge fuck-up: she didn’t exactly know how to confront it.

She wasn’t going back to the swim team yet. But she _had_ to start training on her own.

Her phone beeped.

She knew.

“ _Happy b-day, Emily. It’s time for multiple choice test._ \- A”

Looking at herself in the mirror to finally fix her mascara and lipstick, she found the reflection of a person staring back at her. A person who had already fucked up enough. A person who was going to fuck up again. Always. Always. The most beautiful person – in a very broad sense – in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Parachutes", song by Coldplay.
> 
> The songs Spencer, Aria and Caleb sing are "Parachutes" and "Yello", by Coldplay.


	35. Home Of The Brave

He had to be inside.

Emily rang the bell to the Hastings and waited in choked anxiety, foot tapping against the cement of the front entrance.

Two minutes passed.

_He had to be inside_. He was inside three hours ago, before lunch, while the slow, anguished normalcy of homework took place up in Spencer’s room, the flow of threats impeded because Emily shut her ears to it by using the mute mode on her phone. He was working inside his study, they heard him coughing when they walked by towards the stairs and Spencer told her he had caught the flu. It was impossible he had gone outside if he had a fever. _He had to be inside_. She had only forty minutes before Spencer returned. She had maybe forty minutes, probably less, to clarify the mess: to find a way out, to tell herself it wasn’t that much of a deal, A was wrong again, there was a difference between a threat and a fact, as Spencer would say (and Emily could almost listen to the detailed explanation the same way she’d listened to Spencer’s account of _Hedda Gabler_ this morning), because a threat was always deployed to inspire fear whereas a fact stood naked and cold on itself, like death (and murder), and she needed to understand the difference before taking action, and nothing _really_ bad _needed_ to happen that would get them kicked out of town or imprisoned or that would bring some other disaster to them or to their parents. Parents. Emily swallowed, face against the front door. She was almost grateful her parents weren’t living in Rosewood, although if the Hastings were targeted now things weren’t much better at all, because Spencer was a Hastings and Emily had to take care of that too. And she was here for it.

She took a couple of steps back, the afternoon sun reflecting on the window of the living room.

_He had to be inside_.

Maybe she should have gotten his number (not that she would ever call _him_ ) in case Spencer got in trouble some day and she needed the information or…

He opened the door, brushy brows scrunched up together in surprise and sleepiness, and Emily felt her soul shrinking violently at the sight of his defocused brown eyes. Had she woken him up? Was he that sick? He was always working. He was never here. And, when he was, he was working too, always a blur on his way to somewhere else, a closing door, half a smile in passing, a whispered greeting and that was it. He was Peter Hastings, man of the world, king of Rosewood and its immediacies, father of the beloved.

He spoke first, his voice nasal and deep because of the flu he’d been incubating.

“Emily.”

“Mr. Hastings”, she managed to say back to him, her voice so thick and heavy with worry it had to be difficult not to notice something was terribly wrong with her. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” He really did look like he’d been dozing off, and that was probably why it’d taken him so long to open the door. Leave it to Emily Fields to awake the man after the only nap he ever took in his life. Her feet wanted to continue tapping the ground in response to her tremendous sense of opportunity, but she managed to still herself and look him in the eye.

“Call me Peter, Emily”, he admonished, exactly like his wife had done in the summer. “It’s the flu medication that’s making me sleepy, but you didn’t wake me up.” He took a second to resume his explanation. “I’m sorry to tell you Spencer’s not here, though.”

“I know.”

He raised the famous Hastings brows and smiled a tentative one. “Is there something you forgot here this morning?”

She’d been wondering about how to explain it during the last hours, but there was no right way to talk about this to Mr. Hastings.

As a consequence, she fumbled, her fingers twisting on her leather jacket.

“I…” Maybe she could lie to him about this too, just to come in, but he was still guarding the door. “Do you have a minute?”

He looked slightly annoyed. He wasn’t probably counting on a longer interruption, much less by his daughter’s girlfriend.

“Of course.” His body made way with the solid oak door. “Come in, Emily.”

She nodded, knowing the first step had been accomplished. Now the rest.

He closed the door but didn’t show her to the living room. Instead, he stood in the middle of the foyer, waiting for her to make the next move.

“Is everything all right with Spencer?”, he finally asked when she uttered no words. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

Now the rest.

Couldn’t he sense the alarm signs, the red signs flashing in big teen neon lights?

“Spencer’s fine”, her voice broke, “it’s not… it’s…”

This was by far the scariest thing she’d ever had to do in her life. Keep them coming.

“Is it you?”, he asked, his concern increasing. “I thought your parents were here this weekend.”

She breathed, relieved by the chance of small talk. “They are.”

“Is your father all right?”

“Yes”, she confirmed, “although he had to leave early this afternoon.”

Spencer had almost suffered a heart attack when she’d learned Wayne Fields wouldn’t be present for dinner tonight. Emily had just been sad, but she was used to her father having to leave too early for her own liking. It was his duty. No questions asked. She wished she could see her duty as clearly as her father did, let alone follow it without asking _herself_ questions no one could answer but all the wrong people in the world. She wished she held the key to her father’s courage so she could use it too to battle in all the right fronts.

Peter Hastings seemed at a loss of words. “Well… I…”

“Mr. Hastings… _Peter_ ”, she started, tripping over the eternal mistake of polite cordiality, “I have something I need to ask you, but it’s… I don’t know how to say it.”

How to tell him about A without telling him about A.

How to survive this, how to get out alive, how to stay, how to do the right thing, how to save Spencer, how to save herself.

How to brave it out.

How to turn seventeen - she wasn’t seventeen yet, but she would be in a few hours. This was A’s gift to her.

“How to say what?”, Mr. Hastings asked bluntly, his worldly charm rapidly deflating with the uncertainty of the situation. It wasn’t as if he and Emily usually discussed problems, neither personal nor of some other kind. “Emily, are you in trouble? Do you need help?”

“No, I…”

“Let me ask you more directly”, he offered, crossing his arms with a knowing frown, “did you get in trouble with the law?”

She shook her head with insistence. “No.”

“Because, in that case, Veronica is probably a better person to talk to, Emily.”

“No, it’s not… I didn’t get in trouble.”

Not in that kind of trouble anyway.

“It’s your birthday”, he remembered all of a sudden, as if it was important, “Spencer told me.”

“It’s tomorrow.”

“But you had a party yesterday.”

She was surprised he knew about that. “Yes.”

“And…”, he thought aloud, “are you…?” He examined her. “I know we’re not supposed to talk about it, but Veronica told me about the little incident you had in the summer, and let me tell you I don’t condone underage drinking but given the circumstances I can understand…”

The flames that covered her face were inevitable. “No, no, it’s not that.” A extreme feeling of shame at the connection between trouble and alcohol mixed with indignation (because it had only happened once… or maybe twice) and with the overwhelming urgency to apologize for her mistakes. “Although I’m sorry about that too.” She wondered if she should have apologized to him as well, even though he hadn’t been home that night and she wasn’t sure he knew about it. Well, now she was sure, and the flames burned her face with heat.

He gave her a charming smile. “Well, that’s good then, Emily. What is it?”

It was now or never.

“There’s someone who…” She pulled out her phone, selected the message and held out the phone to him. “There’s someone who says you made a mistake that could get you in trouble and I just wanted to make sure if it was important or…”

His skin paled away, much like his daughter’s skin did when she felt insulted, and Emily felt exactly like she knew she was going to feel when she decided to come here and talk to him about the text: she wanted to throw up her guts. This was _Peter Hastings_. As if Veronica Hastings wasn’t scary enough, add this one up to the mess. What was she thinking? Her future was doomed (even more) from now on if she made the wrong move. She had probably fallen down five more steps on her way to living hell. She was never going to go to college. She was going to be expelled from Rosewood, no, first from the Hastings household and then from Rosewood and then from the country; she would have to continue seeing Spencer in secret, and it wouldn’t work out for a number of reasons, and they’d break up, and life would end, and she would never love anyone else, _ever_. But this was what A wanted of her: to make her move somewhere which would unavoidably be the _wrong_ place, because wasn’t it always wrong anyway? One thing was sure: she wasn’t going to run in the woods; she wasn’t going to ask for a girl’s phone number. Parents had been included in the equation. And she was here. Talking to him.

And it was done.

“Someone?”, he repeated, his voice flattening out in defence. “What kind of mistake?”

He took the phone in his hands and read the message.

“I…”

“ _What is this_?”

“I don’t know”, she lied, startled at the annoyance in his voice, “that’s why I’m here.”

His face went red in small circles and trails, another trait his daughter shared with him. “Who sent you this?”, he almost accused, teeth gritting, posture straightening. “This is offensive.”

She swallowed. “Yes.” Then came the half-truth. “I don’t know who it is.”

He seemed to hammer her to the door with his de-blurring eyes, one more sign of Spencer’s biological inheritance which, right now, she didn’t love. She’d always thought Spencer had Veronica’s capacity for powerful staring, but it turned out her father was really good at it too.

“You don’t know who this is?”

“No.”

“You’re not lying to me.”

“No, Mr. Hastings.”

“Has Spencer told you about this?”

“Spencer?”, she asked, confused. “No, of course not, she doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“ _You_ are indeed finished with _me_ ”, his teeth whistled, “if you continue with this line of action because I am calling your parents _right now_ , Emily.”

Though she was mentally prepared for harshness, her whole body trembled in fear.

“I would never do anything like this to you, Mr. Hastings.” She pointed at her confiscated phone. “This is not on me, you have to believe me.”

He examined her more closely, calculating the possibilities of Emily pulling off such a tease. They didn’t know each other very well, but she had never been that type of kid. It was something for another type of kid, though.

“This is something your friend Alison would do.”

Blood stopped running through her veins. “I’m not like her.” It was true. She wasn’t. No one was. Alison’s fame had spread out all over Rosewood and who knew where else, had reached people they didn’t even suspect. Maybe she’d done things they couldn’t suspect either.

“I know that”, he agreed, “but it certainly rings a bell.”

“I’m really sorry.”

What else could she do but apologize?

Apparently, it was enough for him, because he gave her a long scrutinizing stare before gesturing towards the living room with his hand in an open invitation.

“We need to talk.”

She followed him as he walked decidedly past the living room in the direction of his office.

“Who is this?”, he demanded to know once they were inside, her phone waving in his hand. “Who can know about this?”

A knew everything.

“I don’t know”, she repeated, always torn between telling the whole truth and the half lie, “I received it this morning and I didn’t know what to do and that’s why I’m here.”

“It says it’s up to you to protect me.”

“I know it sounds like a stupid joke”, she struggled to explain without slipping out on the whole A-scenario, “but I just didn’t know what to do when I got it.”

Suddenly overwhelmed, the atmosphere too charged between them and the viruses too active in the air, he opened the window to let in the chilly breeze of autumn.

“It can’t be”, he protested, his lips twisting in disgust. “This is a bad joke.”

“I’m sorry I even came here to ask”, she tried, “I just…”

She couldn’t let it go in case it was important. Because it was A. So it was important.

“You have to know who sent you this.”

“I wish I knew so I wouldn’t be here, Mr. Hastings.”

“ _Nobody_ knows about this.” His words made her shut up in respect and he fixed his bloodish-brown eyes on her. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Therefore, there was _this_ to keep silent about and there was _this_ to protect him from.

And it was up to her, like A had said.

“I won’t”, she promised. “No one will know about it.”

“It was never a fraud, you need to understand that.”

“I do.”

In all honesty, she didn’t understand _anything_ but she had to pretend to understand whatever he said, since it had been her who had come here to confront him. There, the resemblance of an explanation began. He had made a mistake, he said. That much was true. His licence as an attorney could be revoked for malpractice and tampering with legal documents. He didn’t exactly explain why, he said he was not a fraud, though; he didn’t usually do anything wrong, he took his profession very seriously, it was the work of his life, she knew how important it was for him (that was why he was never home), she could relate it to her own dedication to swimming (it was a shame she was not swimming anymore, and how could he help her recover from that or encourage her to reconsider her decision to quit, Spencer had never clarified the reasons for quitting very well but he was ready to listen to her in case she needed to tell him, or to support her in any way possible), Spencer’s own future depended on it, Princeton and every Ivy Leave depended on it, no one could ever know, if she loved Spencer she had to understand the vow of silence that came with being a Hastings, after all. She loved Spencer. There was no _if_. So she repeated that was the reason she was here. Then he said he was trying to help the DiLaurentis family when he made the mistake for which he was being blamed in that outrageous message. The DiLaurentis were behind this when all he’d been to them was a good friend, he’d felt sorry for them after what happened to Alison and he’d tried his best to help Jason DiLaurentis because he was the only son they had left, and that was why he had replaced one testament for another, so Jason wouldn’t lose the money of his family (family money was important, not because of the value of money _per se_ but as a sign of the family’s solidity), but also so he wouldn’t be further questioned as a suspect in the disappearance and murder of his own sister, because what else could happen to that poor family? And now they were paying him like this. She guessed he was blaming the DiLaurentis for the text she’d received, and her mind started whirling with images of Jason and his parents collaborating with Jenna and Garrett Reynolds, and it just didn’t make sense but what made sense anyway in this town, ever? She’d never thought of the possibility of _adults_ , as in _real_ adults, joining together as A and enjoying the torture of four teenaged girls. Then again, whoever was in the woods running had been a girl too. He spoke up again, as if waking her up from her silent racing to conclusions: she knew how these things worked (but she didn’t; she was only seventeen; not yet, really); she’d seen the accusations against Spencer. Yes, she had. Spencer had been falsely accused. The DiLaurentis were tricky people, even a girl so young as her had to notice, right? Emily nodded, catching her breath, because Alison had certainly been tricky and Jason had always looked somehow disoriented, and Spencer still thought he was guilty of something (like her father, come to think of it), but Emily had never imagined the whole DiLaurentis family as A. The conclusion was: whatever the reasons, a testament had been forged; Mr. Hastings’ career was at risk. Even though she still didn’t exactly understand the chain of events and he didn’t completely clarify it, she knew enough to grasp the reality of a legal fraud and how it would affect Spencer’s life, so she delicately decided to ask if Spencer knew about this. Was Spencer aware of what had happened? He said yes, Spencer was aware of the forged testament, she had found out while dating the carpenter boy of the Cavanaughs (Toby). Emily blinked, not sure if that was good or bad; Spencer hadn’t told her; although it was understandable if she had kept silent to protect her father; Emily would’ve done the same; Emily was going to do the same. She accepted the explanation. Peter Hastings had his reasons. Anyway, he was Peter _Hastings_. It wasn’t her place to judge his decisions… he knew what he was doing, right? I mean, he was Peter _Hastings_. You couldn’t really try to walk in his shoes. Emily glanced down at his shoes, but he was wearing flannel slippers under his grey trousers, so she looked up to him again. She just needed to know what A had planned for her. But then he said Spencer shouldn’t know more, that it was important for Spencer not to get involved with the DiLaurentis, that Spencer’s future would be endangered if she tried to ask questions relating that family. Emily’s pulse raced again because Spencer was always asking questions and that was basically what she did for a living these days, even if her father had no clue about it. So she asked him about Jason in the most respectful way she found. She asked: but do you think Jason is guilty of killing Alison? She asked: why did you decide to help him if you think Spencer’s life is in danger because of him? She remembered the creepy pictures of Aria’s lips in Jason’s barn when she and Spencer managed to sneak in. She remembered the cookie and the mattress up in Jason’s abandoned house in the summer. Because it didn’t add up and she needed to know why Mr. Hastings helped Jason if Jason was dangerous, so she could also protect Spencer, she dared ask the most important man in Rosewood why he had acted the way he did, she tried to walk in his shoes for a moment, if only to help Spencer too, because she knew of the dangers Spencer faced every day more than he would ever know, and his skin paled away even more in response to her questions, his shoulders fell and his worldly dominion of every reason and every explanation, _given the circumstances_ , _taking the situation into account_ , faded, he blew his nose, his nose was tinted red and obviously running with too much water in his ghostly face, and his whole demeanour changed into one of a terrified rabbit in the last minute moment of truth before death, death in front of the seventeen-year-old hunter girl of the Fields. The killer Fields. Killers kill their prey, don’t they? Look at Emily Fields, look at Peter Hastings in the same room answering a questionnaire, a gap of age and experience waiting to be filled and served.

If only she could kill the right prey.

Unfortunately she was the rabbit too, she was the one being hunt down relentlessly and she didn’t know how to make it stop.

Then he dropped the bomb.

He said it was a secret Veronica knew about but which could never reach Melissa’s or Spencer’s ears. He said… he said more things, but she stopped listening, blown away by this confession she would have rather not heard. Jason, Melissa, Spencer. Alison. Spencer. Jason didn’t have Spencer’s eyes or Spencer’s hair or even Spencer’s chin or Spencer’s… Spencer. Jason and Spencer. DiLaurentis and Hastings.

She stared at his slippers.

“Emily”, he called out, “I made a mistake and now they’re trying to make me pay for it.”

In a daze, she came back to the conversation. He said if she truly loved Spencer (she did), if she cared about Spencer as much as she seemed to (no if), he reasoned with her, he begged of her, she’d keep her mouth shut and help him stop Spencer from getting close to the DiLaurentis. This gross attempt at blackmailing had to come from them. They were the only ones who could know about his tampering. He would talk to them and to Jason, but she had to promise him not to say a word about it to anyone, not even Spencer.

Still knocked out by the news, she gave him her word.

“This can’t be out in the world, Emily”, he begged some more, trying to guarantee her silence, “you have to make sure of it.”

“It won’t be out.”

“Spencer can’t know either.”

She offered a small nod, too confused and shy to find the courage to disagree. “Okay.”

“Do you understand why, Emily?”

Because it would turn Spencer’s world around.

Because it would tear up the last remnants of her trust in people. Not in people - in him.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you understand?”

No, she wasn’t.

A would tell Spencer sooner or later, and Spencer deserved to hear this from him.

“She should…” She staggered against different words that crowded her, screaming at her, because nothing made sense, and if she knew Spencer well she was sure Spencer would prefer to know about this, she was sure Spencer would hate it if she was the last one to know, just because… Spencer always wanted to know everything. “I think you should tell her before she finds out some other way, Mr. Hastings.”

“She can _never_ find out if we all keep our promises.”

“I won’t tell her”, Emily defended, sensing the accusation in his threat, “but I got this text telling me things I’m not supposed to know about you”, she tried to reason, “and Spencer can receive exactly the same text wanting to hurt both of you.”

“She won’t.”

“She _should_ know about this from you, not from anyone else.”

“I think you’re going too far, Emily, so be careful with what you’re saying.”

She didn’t back down. “This is my problem too.” It was her problem because Spencer was her problem and because A would go too far too if ever given the chance.

“You’re right”, he reconsidered his words, “but you _need_ to understand, Emily, this is a lot more complicated than you can possibly _imagine_.”

One thing she could imagine: Spencer’s reaction. It scared her.

“If you don’t tell her”, she argued more insistently, because somehow this seemed _really_ important, “she’ll find out with a text like the one I got and it’ll be worse.”

“No one’s going to send her such a text!”

He had raised his voice and, as a result, a silence passed between them in the study surrounded by thick wooden soundproofed walls.

Fields Be Brave.

“Maybe not”, she tried again, “but what if she does get one, Mr. Hastings? She deserves to know.”

“She’s a _child_ ”, he spit out, “she’s studying to get into college, and that applies to you too.”

He wanted her silence but he didn’t want her opinion.

“She works harder than anyone.”

That was all she replied, and she meant it. The efforts Spencer had made to please her parents and respond to their impositions, learning on the way to listen to her own needs, beyond everything else that kept happening to her (Ian, A), had always impressed Emily; whereas Emily had thrown her future out of the window in search for a solution… to what? She’d fought so desperately to keep the HGH hidden from everyone, including Mr. Hastings, because she didn’t want the Hastings to find out she was the cheat that she actually truly wasn’t. All the things she had done… she had done for this? For Peter Hastings. For nothing.

He seemed to realize his excess and tended out a hand to her. “She’s extremely talented”, he offered in a softer voice, “and you are too, Emily.”

“I’m not like her.”

It was true. She wasn’t like her. No one was.

“Listen, I know you care about her”, he said, his voice controlled, “and if you truly do, you’ll know what to do.”

“Yeah…I…”

“You can’t win this one.”

“Win?”

He approached her, handing the phone back. “You don’t let this out”, he explained, his voice low, “and I will help you with college.”

“It’s not college I’m worried about”, she blurted out without even thinking, “it’s Spencer.”

“I’m offering you financial support”, he insisted. “It’s an offer you shouldn’t reject, Emily, given your current situation. I know Spencer’s worried about your scholarships and I can only assume you, and also your _parents_ , are worried about them too. Am I wrong?”

Was he trying to buy her silence with the promise of financial aid?

“No”, she denied, her mind working too fast and at the same time too slow. “It’s… You don’t have to offer me anything.”

He sighed almost inaudibly. “Just lay out your conditions so we can discuss them.”

“I don’t have conditions, Mr. Hastings”, she struggled to explain. “It’s only that I think she’ll hate us if we don’t tell her the truth.”

Hate. Truth. Words.

“Spencer doesn’t care about the truth”, he deadpanned, “Spencer cares about success. It’s always been like that with her.”

_Yes_.

But it was _his_ fault, he had made her like that, and anyway Spencer did care about the truth. She was a leader, she was a detective, she was a lawyer (tricky), she was a researcher, she was a teacher; she was so many things at once. She was also… she was…

“I’m…”

“ _I_ get to decide my daughter’s best interest, Emily”, he coldly claimed, “so can I count on you or not?”

He was probably never going to tell Spencer.

“You can”, she assured, but boldly tried once more. “It’s just… I don’t like lying to her.”

“You’re not lying to her.”

“ _We are_.”

He shot her a commanding glance, the rabbit moment forgotten in time. Now she was back to being the rabbit. “I give you my word, Emily, and I’ll keep it.” He paused, his eyes steely red. “I hope you can do the same for me.”

On what he’d given her his word, she didn’t know. But this man was still Peter Hastings, and it was time to surrender.

“I will”, she assured, “I give you my word too.”

“Can I be sure of you?”

“Yes.”

He gave her an undecipherable smile. Somehow, the thought crossed her mind that he really believed she had been the one trying to blackmail him, that maybe she was like Alison, or maybe she was like everybody else, not good enough, and the carpenter boy was equalled in his mind to the ex-swimmer girl of the Fields. All the things she had done… for this - for this moment. And, even though she knew it wasn’t the case, and he had confided in her about some of his wrongdoings, it felt dirty for her to handle the problem this way. With a slight shake of the head the agreement between them was sealed, and she found herself caught in a pact of silence with Peter Hastings, who believed Spencer didn’t really care about the truth, only about success. But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was still A.

The air outside was chilly when she opened the door to her car and flopped down into the driver’s seat, glancing towards her watch and then the sky. The clouds were starting to dye away the yellow of the sun.

In thirty minutes everything had changed again.

The most beautiful thing in the world.

She re-reread the texts she’d been receiving during the afternoon. Four texts full of defiance and a warning to save the right person this time. Spencer. Spencer’s father. Spencer.

Something worse was going to happen, she just didn’t know what.

Adults were supposed to know best.

Adults were supposed to care, adults were supposed to be there for their kids. But when they were, they lied, and kids lied to them. The world of adults sucked. But the fear of not getting to be an adult sucked even more, because growing up meant being free and out of this town. It was at that exact moment when Emily promised herself that, if she ever got to grow up and leave, she would never come back, she would never bring her children back, she would never let Spencer come back either (although they’d probably have to anyway, because the Hastings were attached to Rosewood, so she had to postpone the promise until she could later negotiate it with Spencer). Maybe the rest of the world would be a more peaceful, welcoming place; although a part of her, perhaps the part that had already grown up _too_ fast in the last year, knew it wouldn’t be; but it was worth the try. Wasn’t that what Spencer thought too? Wasn’t that the reason why they wanted to go to college and have a life? In a way, they were already behaving like their parents, no matter how much they tried to avoid that outcome. They were dressing up for them, playing the parts they were expected to play; they were lying to them in return for being lied to, instead of just saying… whatever they could say (she wasn’t sure); they were doing it to keep them safe. She was glad her mother was not living here anymore. She was used to fearing for her father, though; but she wasn’t used to feeling his life depended on her, that it was her responsibility to keep him breathing in a physiological as well as in a non-physiological way. However, this was, more or less, the content of her agreement with Peter Hastings. She, the poster child of good behavior, the shy one, the sweet one, the promising swimmer, who was not even seventeen yet, she had promised The Big Man not to betray him, and still she had done it for Spencer, and still it made her feel like a bigger piece of crap; all she had ever gained, all the trust, the sweetness, the formal education she’d received, it amounted to nothing in the face of real trouble after making the wrong decisions. Hence, when she arrived to the restaurant with her mother, nicely dressed and clean, her façade impeccable, a ponytail allowing her face to glow in her young age, she was still dumbfounded by what she’d learned, not just by the details of it (Jason, the forged testament) but mostly by the complexities of it, by the absolute impossibility to understand what Peter Hastings expected of her and what she could do when A pushed her again to find out her limits. She was still thinking about all of it.  

Spencer was already there, sitting on a table from which she stood up politely to greet first her mother and then her, a small, nervous smile on her lips.

She was also nicely dressed and clean, her façade impeccable, her hair pulled into a few formal braids, discreet make-up, and she shot her an encouraging glance that Emily could hardly return, because she wasn’t even thinking about her mother’s intervention tonight anymore. She was just thinking about Peter Hastings. She was just thinking about Jason and Spencer and about everything that she could not say to her. And she was thinking about how much she still wanted her (bad, so bad) even though it wasn’t the moment to think about that. It was the damn butterfly in her stomach and the hungry vulture she could dimly perceive in Spencer’s sideways glances that stole the breath from her lungs once more and made her feel like the true teenager she actually still got to be from time to time, the one who would like to forget about parents and sneak out in the middle of the night and find somewhere dark and deserted to celebrate her birthday with the one person she loved.

But she could not exactly look her in the eye. Not right now.

“I don’t know where you put so much food, Spencer.”

Spencer blushed under the spell of Pam Fields’ words. They were already handing out the menus to the waiter, and Spencer had asked for a Philadelphia steak sandwich with fries and salad on the side.

“I’m starving tonight”, she explained with a polite smile, “I had a light lunch.”

“She gets really hungry around this hour”, Emily added. “Food is a must." 

“And my metabolism works really fast.”

“And she works out a lot”, Emily contributed too. “Plus she’s lucky.”

The waiter sent Spencer an appreciative glance before walking away, which only served to increase Spencer’s blush and Emily’s inner butterfly smile.

Pam Fields looked from one girl to the other with a fond, calm easiness that surprised her daughter. That was Spencer’s effect on her parents. Spencer was a winner. Spencer was success. Was Spencer also the truth? Did she want it?

“Are you still the captain of the field hockey team?”

The word team created some visible anxiety in the two teenagers.

“I was briefly last year”, Spencer answered, “but I’m not anymore.”

“How come?”

Spencer paled at the question.

“My coach didn’t think it was appropriate to give the captaincy to someone who’d had to do community service”, she explained in her best disinterested voice, “and after the summer we decided it wouldn’t be such a great idea so I… nicely stepped out.” She quickly decided to give one more detail. “But I’m still playing for the team, and anyway I don’t have that much time for a captaincy right now.”

Emily shot an apologetic glance, as if that had been her fault. “It was really unfair.”

Pam nodded, looking concerned too. “Yes, that was… I can imagine.” She paused, examining Spencer’s face. “Wayne and I were so sorry to hear about community service, Spencer.”

“Fortunately it all ended well”, Spencer made sure to add, “and it’s not like the team’s so important for me this year.”

Pam smiled sweetly. “I’m sure you have other things in mind that are more important than playing hockey.”

“It’s a very complicated year.”

“Spencer’s going to Princeton, mom.”

“I, uhm, that’s not sure yet”, Spencer clarified, paling again, “but my parents want me to go there.”

“I’m sure you can get in any university you want”, Pam answered. “Princeton should be happy to have you.”

“Well, it’s…”, Spencer hesitated, “I’m not sure where I want to go yet, but I’ll be applying to a lot of universities.”

“Any preference?”

“No.” Spencer’s face looked completely blank, but Emily could feel a certain tension. “Not yet.”

“I thought you were applying to Princeton”, Emily turned to ask her. “I mean, didn’t you…?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“But your dad…”

The name made her feel dirty when she employed it now. Maybe she would never be able to say _your dad_ to Spencer without feeling weird and confused and dirty.

“My dad will be happy with my decision as long as a good university takes me.”

Pam Fields intervened. “Certainly”, she agreed. “Because you’ll make the right decision.”

Spencer only gave half a smile for an answer. She was nervous. Emily could see it. And it would be incredibly sexy if it wasn’t because Emily felt like crap and couldn’t think about sexy things without thinking about Peter Hastings at the same time.

There was a silence around the table.

“I’m sorry Wayne couldn’t make it”, Spencer offered to fill the void, “I would’ve loved to see him.”

“He’s sorry too.”

“And I’m sorry too”, Emily corroborated. “We’re all sorry.”

“Maybe next time we could have dinner with your parents, Spencer.”

Her mother’s words made Emily immediately stiffen up. That was just not what she needed.

Spencer didn’t seem to love the idea either. “That would be nice”, she said, anyway. “I’ll let them know.”

“I can call them.”

“Yeah, that’s…”, Spencer replied. “That’s probably better.”

Pam seemed to catch on the general sense of awkwardness. “I mean, if you girls are all right with it.”

“It’s perfect”, Spencer smiled. “It’s just that they’re always out… they’re never here, uhm, together… I mean simultaneously.”

Pam nodded. “They work so much”, she agreed. “But it comes with being a Hastings.”

“It certainly doesn’t come for free”, Spencer added, and Emily stiffened some more. “But my mom will be happy to join us, I think, and maybe my dad too, if he’s in Rosewood.”

“And I’ll be delighted to be joined by them”, Pam Fields concluded with a soft smile. “You can tell them that.”

“I will.”

Emily stole a glance at Spencer, who returned it out of the corner of her eye. Apparently, there was some sort of tension that Emily couldn’t entirely grasp but that could not relate to _what_ she had done today, because it was impossible Spencer knew about it. So why was she tense about her parents? Besides the fact that, well, she was always tense about them anyway. She’d have to ask her later. Or maybe not. Because she was a liar now – again.

“So… Emily”, Pam said, “I think we should… talk about something that is not so pleasant… if that’s all right with you too, Spencer.”

Spencer nodded, wide-eyed. “Sure.”

“Mom”, Emily protested, “do you mind if we wait until we at least _eat_? I’d appreciate that.”

“Emily, isn’t it better to solve it now?”

“It’s fine, Emily”, Spencer tried to calm her down, “we can talk.”

All of a sudden, Emily felt tears in her throat. For the first time in the day. It was a record. She was on the verge of tears almost every day. And, today, she’d been so anxious and worried and plain shocked she hadn’t even sensed the constant urge of choking and the imposing lack of air. But it was coming back. The team. The HGH. A.

“Mom, can I be excused for a second?”

“Emily, sweetheart.”

She stood up and forced a smile. “I’ll be back. I’m just going to the restroom.”

Eyes hanged on her as she walked to the restroom in an unstaged escape. Run, Emily, run.

She bolted the door in the stall and took a deep breath against the wall.

She had a headache. Maybe she was incubating the flu too.

“Em?”

Spencer had followed her to the restroom.

“I’m here.”

“Em, come out.”

“I already came out, Spencer.”

There was a quiet, dry laugh at the other side. “Funny. But come out anyway.”

She came out and turned on the water to wash her hands. “I’m fine.” Spencer’s face and upper body were reflected in the ample mirror, concern in her features.

“We just have to tell her I’m tutoring you and it’s working.”

“I know.”

“So let’s just do it.”

“It’s not gonna work.”

“We don’t know that.”

“I know my mother, Spencer.”

“Fine, you do”, Spencer agreed, “but we’ve got to try.”

Emily took another deep breath and turned around to face Spencer. “Why are you so tense?” She wasn’t supposed to ask, but then again she couldn’t really control it. She cared about the truth, especially when it had to do with Spencer.

“I… You know why.”

“It’s not only my mom.”

“I was _born_ tense, Emily.”

“But you’re tenser… Is that a word?”

“Yeah.” Spencer looked away and chew on her lip, a clear sign of nervousness. “I just don’t want you to be extra worried tonight.”

Her heart jumped. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing”, Spencer quickly added. “Okay, it’s something. I may have forgotten to email my pre-application form to Princeton.”

“ _What_?”, Emily shrieked. “How did that happen? How could you forget that?”

“Friday was the last day to send it and I saved it on my laptop to do it later when Aria called”, Spencer explained, “because we had a rehearsal and then we were going to discuss Alison’s double life and… I totally forgot.”

“Are you _crazy_?”

“Gee, Em”, Spencer whined, “I can sense the Hastings pressure growing up in you.”

The Hastings Pressure, boiling inside her, scorching every field, burning down the smoke.

“Sorry.”

“At least you’re coming in handy to test their reaction.”

It was going to be much worse.

“But Princeton…”

“There are other universities, Emily.”

“That your parents will _hate_.” The taste of the word in her mouth. Parents. Hate. Parents hated her as much as any university that was not good enough. Success. “It’s my fault.”

“It’s not.” Spencer took her hand. “It’s just… it’s gonna be difficult to explain it to my parents and I may need to get into Yale and Harvard and Stanford and Columbia and everywhere else to make them forgive and forget, but it’s gonna be _fine_ in the end.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

“What am I supposed to do?”, Spencer raised her voice. “Pack my stuff and change my name and leave town to try my luck in South America? I admit to having thought about it, but I don’t think it’s really the best solution.”

“Why aren’t you freaking out about this?”

“Because I already freaked out”, Spencer admitted, letting go of Emily’s hand to cross her arms. “I spent the whole afternoon freaking out and trying to breathe into Aria’s phone. I just didn’t want you to freak out too… like you’re freaking out right now.”

Emily pouted. “Isn’t there a way to fix it?”

“Maybe I can camp out campus and blame the economy and Obama”, Spencer chewed on the words, sarcastically, “but I doubt it.”

She felt like crying. “ _Spencer_.”

“I’m _sorry_ , okay?”

“It’s my fault”, Emily said again, horrified because it was true and she cared about the truth. “It’s the damn birthday and it’s A.”

“It’s not your birthday.”

“It _is_ ”, Emily fired back. “Shit.”

Failure.

Now she had passed it on to Spencer. One more thing to feel proud of.

“Let’s go back to the table and have this conversation.”

She nodded, because her mother was waiting, but before she could start walking Spencer gently gripped her forearm.

“And we talk tomorrow, right? You and I.”

She gave another nod. “Yeah.” What kind of strategy could they design when Spencer was probably going to have to fly the country after this disaster, while she herself would be on some incredibly secret mission to save Peter _Hastings_ and blow up her own life on A’s terms?

Apparently, Spencer picked up on her uncertainty. “Unless you prefer to have the talk on Tuesday.”

“No, it’s fine.”

She didn’t even know what she was going to say to her, given the circumstances.

“You sure?”

“I _am_ sure.”

“Because you look really tense too, you know.”

“I know.”

Spencer held her grip on her forearm. “It’s just… I thought…”, she stuttered. “But tomorrow’s your official birthday so if you wanna postpone the conversation, I just thought…”

“I _want_ to have the conversation.” That wasn’t entirely true, though. “Really.”

Spencer smirked a little. “Or you want to have what’s coming _after_ it?”

That was it.

Emily couldn’t help but smile in return to Spencer’s soft, somewhat shy smirk.

“You’re always so clever.”

They fell on each other’s gaze for a moment, and Spencer relaxed the grip but didn’t completely let go.

“Gimme a kiss?”, Spencer requested. “Now that we’re clear.”

They hadn’t kissed hello in front of her mother. They had kissed in the morning. They had kissed before lunch. They had kissed a lot while doing homework. All those kisses felt like a robbery to A and to time, when it should feel the other way around. Damn. But she wanted to kiss her ever since they arrived to the restaurant. The problem was she didn’t feel very clear right now. Spencer blinked, waiting for some kind of answer, and Emily closed the distance, catching her lower lip and allowing the butterfly to kick her stomach with ardor.

It lasted until it really started to revolt.

“You’re not chasing me around”, Emily warned after breaking it off, “I wanted to kiss you.”

Spencer rolled her eyes. “But I still had to _ask_.”

“It’s a restroom”, Emily protested, “I get nervous in restrooms.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is horny.”

There was a special brightness in Spencer’s eyes, but Emily hushed her as if her mother could hear the dangerous words.

“You’re allowed to think about it, Em”, Spencer mocked her, “it’s not a sin to think about it.”

She blushed, because she was indeed thinking about it. “I’m not saying it’s a sin.”

“But you’re acting like it is.”

“I know it’s not”, Emily countered, stopping in front of the door, “it’s just distracting and…”

“And mind-changing.”

She turned around to face Spencer’s mocking gaze. “Stop it.” Spencer was never going to let her live it down after what she’d said yesterday night at the party.

“You should use your superpowers to change my mind about everything we don’t agree on.”

Right.

“Wouldn’t you like that?”

“I’m imagining a world of hot issues such as… abortion, the health care system, defence expenses, the next president of Bolivia, is Rihanna a good singer and so on that we’ll have to discuss.”

Somehow, Emily doubted they could really engage in hot discussions about all those hot issues (key word being _hot_ ), but her face went redder anyway.

“Too bad we agree on almost everything.”

“Is that so?”

She felt a pang of doubt. “We don’t?”

“Of course we do”, Spencer smirked, kissing her nose before pushing the door open with her hand. “Let’s face your mom.”

If only she knew how much parent-facing she was having to do today…

The food was already on the table when they came back, her mom sitting straight and waiting for them to start. They didn’t talk. They ate instead, and Emily nibbled lethargically on Spencer’s fries, both anxious about the intervention to come and relieved it’d been postponed for a few more minutes.

It took those few minutes for her mother to clear her throat and speak up again.

“How was the tutoring today, Emily?”

Emily swallowed the piece of roasted chicken. “It was good.”

“I think we can get her back on track for mid-terms”, Spencer said, “definitely for finals.”

Pam Fields shook her head and looked at Spencer. “I took the liberty of calling your mom, Spencer”, she explained in a soft tone, “and we agreed your schedule is already complicated enough for you to be able to… well, to solve this for Emily.”

“But she can do it”, Spencer argued, “Em’s a good student, it’s just going to take…”

“She’s a good student”, Pam Fields interrupted, “but she’s an _outstanding_ swimmer.”

“I don’t want to swim anymore.”

Her mother stared in unconcealed concern. “Emily, we are so worried about you, and I know it’s difficult for you to understand this, and it’s okay if you don’t want to swim anymore, but you need to give me a good reason for this and you need to offer another plan, or…”

“Mom.”

Spencer gently set the fork down on her plate.

“You can’t put the responsibility on Spencer”, Pam Fields warned, “because it’s not fair to her.”

That was the final bullet that did it.

Amazingly, it was exactly what she was thinking; she just hadn’t worded it like that.

“She’s not doing that”, Emily heard Spencer say weakly, “I volunteered to help.”

“Spencer, I know you want to help”, Pam replied, “and I know you also agree with me about the team.”

“I…”

“She does agree with you”, Emily announced firmly. She was trapped. But it wasn’t the first time. And her mother was right about Spencer. Spencer was doing far too many things. She had forgotten about Princeton. She was pretending to be okay about it, but Emily knew she had to be terrified of telling her parents when she couldn’t even explain it had all happened because she was hunting down a stalker slash murderer all over town. There was nothing to do to fix it. But Emily had to stop the nonsense and bargain with her mother for a way out. Spencer couldn’t be the eternal back-up plan. “Can you give me two more weeks?”

“Two more weeks for what, Emily?”

“What are you gonna do if…?”

“You know what I’m going to do, honey.”

“I don’t want to leave Rosewood.” Her voice filled with unshed tears. “You can’t just drag me out of here because I don’t want to swim anymore, mom.”

“I’m worried about you, Emily, and your father is too”, her mother answered sternly. “And, trust me, I don’t want to hurt you, but I know something’s happening to you and…”

“I need two weeks”, Emily begged. “Then I’ll go back to the team.”

“Two weeks for what?”

“They still want me.”

“Emily.”

“I need to sort things out with someone else… someone I need to talk to.”

Pam Fields narrowed her warm brown eyes. “Honey, are you being bullied by this girl… what’s her name… Paige Mcsomething?”

Oh, no, no, no.

“No.” She wanted to sound firm and clear. “We’re friends. I was the one who recommended her to the coach for the captaincy and she’s been trying to convince me to swim again.”

She could sense Spencer’s tension but she needed to negotiate this with her mother without her mother thinking Paige was to blame for her situation.

Pam Fields frowned, in doubt. “Yes, I know, but…”

“I’m not being bullied”, Emily insisted, “I told you I’m just tired of competing.”

“So who do you need to talk to?”

“Someone who’s been helping me out with this.”

“Are you seeing a therapist?”

Spencer coughed on her water.

“ _Mom_ , no”, Emily denied, “it’s just someone I had a problem with. But it’s not bullying. And it’s also not Paige.”

She was such a bad liar.

“Emily, am I supposed to believe you have to talk to someone with whom you have a problem but who’s helping you out with swimming? How does that make sense?”

It didn’t, really.

“I said I _had_ a problem”, she tried to clarify, or rather to mess it up more, “not that I have a problem now.”

Leaning back on her seat, her mother sighed deeply. “What kind of problem?”

“It’s just… _something_.”

“Something?”, Pam Fields questioned in a disbelieving tone. “Someone?”

She sighed deeply too. She should get lying lessons out of someone who knew how to do it well: Aria. “It’s my ulcer”, she finally offered, knowing the new lie was only going to muddle the situation even more, but hoping it would somehow get her mother to trust her. “It’s a doctor. Someone I don’t like.”

She caught a glimpse of Spencer’s rounded-plate eyes.

“I thought your ulcer had completely healed.”

“It has”, Emily explained, playing around with her food. “But it was giving me problems again because of how pressured I felt about my times… and I quit, and I’ve been sorta seeing him to get the proper treatment, but I didn’t want you finding out.”

Her mother looked even more worried now. “You should have told me about this, Emily.”

“I’m sorry”, she looked down to her plate, ashamed that she was turning to a health problem to buy time, “I just didn’t want you worrying about it too much.”

Pam Fields directed her eyes to Spencer. “I assume you also knew about this, Spencer.”

“I… Yes.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice was a shadowed pale ghost of the confident Hastings she usually was.

“I asked her to keep it a secret”, Emily asserted, “but she didn’t agree with me.”

“Emily, you can’t just do things like you’re old enough to make decisions on your own”, her mother scolded, “and, whether you like it or not, you’re still my daughter and I am entitled to know about your health.”

“I didn’t know what to do.”

This time she sounded so deeply honest and vulnerable (because, in this case, it was the truth) that her mother’s eyes filled with tears too, and her hand stretched out on the table to catch and squeeze her daughter’s. “Honey, I want the best for you, I really do.”

Emily nodded, fighting the ever-present tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.” Although she was more sorry she was lying to her now. There was no way out.

“You need to tell me everything that’s wrong.”

If only she could say… but it was a bad idea. She was a liar and a failure and the person responsible for Spencer’s mistake and, not only that, she had no clue what her next step was going to be. But she couldn’t leave Rosewood. For a variety of reasons. And it was better if her mother left Rosewood so she would be safe… safer at least. This was not a safe place.

“I’m better now.”

“What’s this doctor’s name?”

“Why do you want to know?”, she asked, knowing she was pushing too many of her mother’s buttons. “It’s… It’s going to be fine.”

“Do you really need to ask me that?”

She parted her lips, the tongue tasted it in her mouth, but she was unable to say it.

“It’s Doctor Kingston”, Spencer mumbled, coming to the rescue, “he’s an old friend of my family and he already treated Emily for her ulcer the first time.”

Her mother looked back at Emily. “And you don’t like him why?”

“I… used to…”, Spencer stuttered, still trying to help, “I… He kissed me once. Twice.”

“Oh.”

“It was a long time ago but Emily doesn’t like him.”

Pam Fields seemed to retract after this confession, suddenly embarrassed to know more about her daughter’s and her girlfriend’s relationship. She had gone a long way in accepting Emily ever since Maya happened, and especially after Spencer happened things had been a lot easier because she was used to having Spencer around, she knew her, trusted her and liked her, but that didn’t mean it was easy for her to think of, well, the fact that they were involved in certain activities that implied things such as… romantic jealousy.

Therefore, Wren Kingston did the trick.

After that, her mother promised to give two more weeks for Emily to solve her problems and go back to the team. In exchange, Emily had to offer a blood test that would prove she was ready to compete again, and a plan signed by Dr. Kingston allowing her to do it, which she would have to get… somehow. A conversation between her mother and Wren was prevented because the British doctor worked a lot of hours and was doing a personal favor with this act of amazing kindness (even though he hadn’t been actually informed of it). And that was how Wren made his way back into their life again, in the form of the most absurd lie of all. It seemed particularly difficult to get rid of him, no matter what, and Emily hated herself for it, not only because this meant Spencer would be the one asking for the newest favor (she wasn’t going to be as foolish as to pretend it made sense for her to try this time) but mostly because this also meant she would actually go back to the team in two weeks… to be finally exposed by A, if and when A felt like it, unless Spencer’s efforts finally paid back. And then there was Peter Hastings and his fraud. It was such a great mess it was difficult to unravel it right now even for her and she was sure, if asked to give a thorough explanation, she would be rendered speechless. But that was not the case. Her mother believed her. As Alison had taught them, you had to lie, and if you didn’t succeed, then you had to lie again; and the lie had to be much better. Apparently, it was a lesson that could keep you alive - until you died.

Truth didn’t matter.

Success did.

Neither of them seemed reachable for Emily Fields.

They left the restaurant and she managed to steal a minute to say goodbye to Spencer while her mom retrieved the car. She told Spencer to wait a second, she said I love you, you know that, right?, and Spencer said it back, I love you too, she whispered, and of course I know that, tomorrow’s your birthday and I may have something else for you, eyes glimmering in the dark, what else?, Emily asked, although she honestly didn’t care about the presents, just about tonight, just about the fact that they were now saying goodbye, and still Emily couldn’t believe today had ever happened in real life. Peter _Hastings_ , Jason DiLaurentis (or Hastings too, she thought in a mix of terror and awe), Princeton, Wren Kingston… they could all go to hell, she was sold out, she was sinking down, she was drowning. The car stopped besides them and the kiss on the cheek felt like an inappropriate form of saying goodbye, and Emily watched as Spencer waved her hand and walked back to her SUV, hasty yet elegantly strolling in her discreet flats. And she loved her. It hit her clear and raw, so raw she didn’t exactly know what to do with it at this point in her life except keep going forward.

When her mother dropped her off in the Marins’, where she was going to sleep again tonight, she stopped a moment to say good night to Mrs. Marin, who was watching TV with a glass of wine in her hand.

Hanna was already sleeping.

The covers felt crisp and cold when she climbed into bed, and Emily rubbed her bare feet against each other, warming them up. There was a noise of paper as her body rolled over to one side, adjusting to the comfort of a better position. She used her phone to light up the night, and there it was, the message: a yellow note with capital letters, sticking up to a folder which contained one copy of a testament, a picture of Mrs. Marin kissing and sexily hugging Detective Wilden, and a copy of Hanna’s police report charging her for shop-lifting, executed by Detective Wilden. She froze as she glanced over at Hanna’s bed, where Hanna lied in a mess of covers and blankets, a pale thigh and a foot sticking out. Then she read the note again.

 “ _Who will you save? – A.”_


	36. Mine, Mine, Mine, I Love You Too

“Have you guys seen Emily?”

Books hit the surface of the table, causing a dry, opaque noise against it. The Advanced Chemistry on top crumbled down, carrying along others in their common fall, a castle made out of heavy cards and engraved sand. Hanna raised both of her brows, quizzically.

“Someone’s in a bad mood.”

“And someone’s not answering my questions.”

Judging by the darkish circles around the eyes of the Nerd and by the lines marking her forehead, it seemed whatever was going on with Spencer today was more than a crank. Spencer looked like she hadn’t gotten any sleep. So that meant bad news. And it was only 10.15 in the morning, and it was a _Monday_ , and Hanna had a History test in two hours. There was no way the world could get _worser_ on a grim rainy Monday morning. Besides, Emily had also been weird this morning. Hanna had tried to wake her up with a pillow assault and a happy birthday scream which Emily had received with a shit-face, almost as if she were turning thirty and not seventeen. Well, to be completely honest, more than weird Emily had turned out to be sick, because she’d spent part of the next twenty minutes in the bathroom, vomiting. So, at least, she had a good excuse not to be nice. Not only that, Emily managed to be nice even when she was grumpy, just by sending those perfect doe-eyed signals that usually did the job for everyone, including her.

“What’s with you two today?”

Immediately catching on the you-two remark, Spencer sniffed information with her terrier snout. “Did you see her? How is she?”

“ _Hello_ , Spencer?” Hanna waved her hand to state the obvious. “I _live_ with her.”

“Can you just answer the question?”, Spencer demanded with a scowl. “Or is that too much exercise for you?”

“She was feeling sick when I went down for breakfast.”

Spencer’s expression changed from one of tired frustration to another of outraged concern. “And you let her come to school?”

“I’m not her mother, Spencer, and I’m not _mine_ either”, Hanna defended herself, crossing her arms from her position in the table next to Aria, whose eyes were getting bigger at their exchange. Spencer was scarier when she was standing up with that crazed sleepless caffeine-induced look on her face. “I told her to stay in bed when I saw she was puking, although it’s more like I _heard_ her puking while I was getting dressed, so I had to run the hell outta there, but…”

“She was _puking_?”

“Yeah.” Hanna’s skin grew a shade of untainted pale, as if she had suddenly turned around to look back at what had happened this morning just to be transformed into a statue of salt. Maybe she should have used violence to force Emily to stay in bed. It was too late now. “In the bathroom, this morning”, she squealed, “I thought something she _ate_ yesterday made her sick and…”

“But she didn’t eat that much.”

“ _I don’t know_ ”, Hanna argued in exasperation, “but I told my mom about it.”

“Why didn’t you tell Emily to stay home?”

“Spencer, I told her to _stay_ , but she said she was fine.”

“Because throwing up is such an obvious sign of great health, Hanna”, Spencer growled angrily. “You know how she is.”

“She _is_ a normal person”, Hanna fired back, “she’s not like you, she doesn’t love school.”

“Hanna, she is _not_ normal these days.”

Hanna shut up, feeling defeated. It was always the same. Since Hanna was the one living with Emily, it was up to her to keep a watchful eye on Emily in order to inform Spencer. She was getting tired of the role, because they both made it so hard, but at the same time she couldn’t just shake it out and pass it on to Aria. It was her duty as a friend to both of them.

“I saw her in class”, Aria intervened, offering Hanna a hand, “and she looked kinda fine.”

“ _Kinda_?”

“Spencer”, Hanna cut in, “can you just tell us what’s wrong?”

“Yeah”, Aria said, “and maybe you can also stop blaming us for it.”

Spencer plopped down on the seat, her menacing demeanor shifting back into one of frustration. “Sorry.” She looked smaller and less powerful once she was sitting, and she reached out her hand to grab Aria’s cup, peeking inside to see if there was still coffee. When she saw the remains, she drank them, not caring about Aria’s thick brow-raising.

“Hey.” Aria knew about Princeton, so her brow-raising was sympathetic. “We’re listening.”

But this was not about Princeton. Spencer had a bad feeling. “I haven’t seen her today, like, _at all_ , and it’s her birthday”, she explained in a rough, sleepy voice, “and it’s weird because… we were together yesterday night and it’s…” It was weird. Today was the official birthday. She’d texted her at 12.01 last night, she’d tried calling her in the morning right after getting up and then she’d expected to catch her in school to no avail. Emily was gone.

“It’s only 10, Spencer”, Aria dismissed softly. “We have English together.”

“I _know._ ”

Spencer bit it like she would bite a disgusting rag. She knew Emily well enough to notice when it was weird not to catch a sight of her at school, especially after a night like yesterday’s. Emily had said I love you before saying goodnight and at that moment it had been sweet and Spencer had melted in drool upon hearing it (you are so mine it hurts, Spencer had thought before saying it back, I love you too, I love you too, I will always love you too), because words of love didn’t hurt, they didn’t hurt after being so lost and so jealous (true, and also so insecure) during the last weeks, words like that didn’t hurt, she wanted them to echo in her ears and she wanted them to sweat against her skin (on top, below, in every form and position and, yes, she _also_ meant sex), but seeing it in front of her face did hurt – in a blinding, aching kind of way – when it surged through her like a crave of the body and a delirious hunger, you are so mine, Spencer thought in wonder, you are so mine, it was still a fact of life, it was _right there_. Emily was looking tired and anxious while she spoke, trying to spot the car in the parking lot and calculating the seconds they still had to steal a real kiss before her mother came back, her almond eyes blazing with unspoken care and want, the same crave and the same hunger, and all Spencer could think when Emily said love was mine, mine, mine, I love you too, I love you too, I will always love you too. That was what kept her awake in bed. It had sounded way too emotional, and the emotion with which Emily had spoken had raised a rash of ache and worry during the night. Literally a rash, because Spencer had woken up with a reddish eruption on her left thigh. But, since too much emotion seemed to rule their lives lately, she tried not to make too much of it; she also tried not to think too much of anything else, like Princeton and her parents and the way her academic life would consist from this day on in an endless struggle to make it to Harvard or Yale so her parents wouldn’t kick her out and disown her. However, this disappearance from earth was a clear sign that Emily was hiding somewhere else, from everyone: it had happened too many times already for Spencer to ignore this was the way Emily chose to run away from trouble. Therefore, if Emily was hiding, the conclusion was that she was freaking out big time: about dinner, Princeton, Wren, about going back to the team in two weeks, about the HGH, about leaving Rosewood for Texas and about every one of the million things Emily had reasons to freak out about after dinner yesterday. On top of it all, Hanna had just said Emily was sick, but then again Spencer didn’t believe Emily would avoid her if that was the cause of the problem. Perhaps she was engaging in a conversation with Paige about how well they understood each other when it came to getting sick and swimming and coming out of the closet. After all, they were friends now. But Spencer dismissed the thought of Paige. She should probably go look for Emily instead of snapping at Hanna, who was, after all, her best ally when it came to Emily’s hiding tendencies.

Spencer glanced up at the blonde. “She should go home if she’s feeling sick, Han.”

Hanna smiled a little at the more communicative attitude. “How was dinner?”, she asked, since she couldn’t get the information from Emily either yesterday or this morning. “I mean, did it go well without Mr. Fields there to save your ass from big monster momma?”

“It depends on how you look at it.”

“I’m looking at it right now, and you have dark rings under your eyes.”

Spencer shot a murderous glare. “I don’t even know how to answer that question.” Because it was too complicated to explain.

Aria leaned forward, her small, delicate hands on the table tending to recover her cup. “Mrs. Fields gave you guys a hard time?”

Spencer thought about dinner again. “It was worse for Emily, but I think we sort of managed some damage control.” If damage control meant adding more difficulties to their life, yes.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning at least we have two more weeks to sort the situation out”, Spencer explained, “and meaning Mrs. Fields thinks Em’s having problems with her ulcer again.”

“Seriously?”

“And we have to get Wren to help.”

“Whoooo”, Hanna said, lifting her hand, “she’s gonna love that, no wonder she got sick.”

Spencer wondered if Emily wouldn’t be feeling better in Texas, away from all of this.

“I hope she doesn’t really get the ulcer back”, Aria added thoughtfully, “you know, because of that.”

“How is _that_ gonna work to give her the ulcer back?” Spencer reacted badly, because it felt like an accusation. “What do you mean?”

Aria shrugged in innocence. “Stress.”

“Well, it’s not gonna be the same”, Spencer cleared up, more to herself than to Aria, “with Wren at least.”

“You better mean that”, Hanna winked in complicity. “Last time she almost dumped you.”

Spencer didn’t even have the energy to glare at Hanna. She wondered if Emily had gotten sick because of Wren. But it seemed unlikely. Probably it was a combination of factors, Wren being one of them. This time they’d talk to him together.

“I’ll figure something out.”

“So why didn’t you sleep tonight?”, Aria questioned too. “You look like you need a bed.”

“But nor for sleeping, right?” Hanna directed her clear gaze back to Spencer. Apparently their sexual abstinence was obvious to the world. “Tell Emily to give you some.” She stopped to think of her words for a moment. “Although it should be you, you know, making her happy.”

That hurt.

“ _Happier_ ”, Aria corrected. “Spence sang brilliantly and Em loved it, and then they made out.”

That hurt too, surprisingly.

Spencer could hardly believe she’d rejected Emily – it – sex. She wouldn’t probably have a rash if she’d had sex on Saturday. She should be taking care of her health – and of Emily’s.

“You did get some, huh?”

“No”, Spencer curtly answered Hanna, “and I don’t think I can get _any_ if she’s throwing up in every toilet, Hanna.”

“Okay, _gross_.” Hanna made a face of disgust. “You don’t mix up sex and puke, it’s like… _no_.”

“It’s your fault.”

“All I’m saying is life would be easier for all of us if you were worn out because you’re having birthday sex and not because of whatever Mrs. Fields is doing to you.”

“Guys”, Aria called for peace, “easy.”

“You know”, Spencer decided to answer instead, thinking of a quick solution to her needs, “I’m just gonna text her again and see if I can get a hold of her before the next class.”

“Cool”, Hanna approved, “send her home. Have sex. Make her happy.”

“In your bed.”

“No way”, Hanna exclaimed in horror before recovering a wicked composure. “In your dreams.”

“In my dreams I’m having sex in your bed.”

“With me?”

“That’s in _your_ dreams.”

“Maybe if you looked like Caleb you’d stand a chance”, Hanna bantered back, “although you’re kinda manly when your voice gets sleepy like that.”

“Because Caleb is known to represent the absolute epitome of masculinity.”

“The _what_?”

“The epitome of masculinity.”

Hanna looked puzzled. “If you really want me to smash you like I know you do you’re gonna have to speak my language.”

Spencer rolled her eyes, allowing the eternal banter with Hanna to soothe her soul. “It is your language.” But then she remembered Emily. Emily, who was not here to roll her eyes too, or to smile that little knowing smile when they bickered mercilessly. “Never mind.”

“I hope you’re not insulting Caleb with that episode thing.”

“Epitome.”

“Whatever”, Hanna said, “but you’re not insulting him, right?”

“I’m not insulting him, I’m just saying…” She wasn’t sure she wanted to start a discussion about Caleb’s manliness, especially if it was going to be compared to her voice and her plaid shirts which Hanna actually loved, as she had already confessed. “Never mind, Hanna.”

“You better not insult him cause he’s got something for us tonight.”

Spencer’s heart raced. This was what they needed. More leads. Two weeks. “Yeah?” She could feel her eyes burning in response, and Hanna’s little twinkle replied accordingly.

“That’s what he said.”

“What is it?”, Aria asked. “Did he tell you?”

“He wants all of us to see it.”

“I’m gonna text Em.”

Pulling the phone out while Aria explained the meaning of epitome with another word Hanna didn’t understand (paradigm), Spencer typed a text asking Emily to meet her at the lockers because Caleb had A-news for them and because it was her birthday and it was mandatory.

“I’m leaving.”

She started the camel-walk in the desert towards the lockers, but Emily never answered or even appeared close to them. Now, this was a bad sign too. This was a very bad sign.

Her thigh was itching.

She ran to Chemistry after the bell rang, but when Emily arrived late to English all the alarms set off inside her brain. This Emily was not the Emily she saw yesterday. Haggard and ill-looking for being tan-skinned, caramel-cream Emily, this Emily was not _kind of fine_ , this Emily was not simply stressed and tense because of her mother and everything else, this Emily walked almost hunched to her seat, several rows behind Spencer, without as much as a reassuring glance or a soothing smile, without as much as an indescribable air of melancholy or natural absent-mindedness, this was another person walking slowly after mumbling an inaudible apology to Mrs. Montgomery. Her eyes were puffy. That meant tears, crying, crying. Helpless anger at Hanna and Aria took over, no justice, no pity, no nothing, everything is wrong, everything is wrong, and Spencer turned around in her seat to glare at Aria, who shot back an interrogative look and a shrug of her shoulders, it was not their fault, it was not their fault, it was not their fault, but they noticed the problem too. Spencer texted Emily again, regardless of the consequences, an act which gained her a word of reprehension from Mrs. Montgomery. She didn’t care, not right now, and if she could she’d just jump over the desks and grab Emily’s collar and ask her; instead, she discreetly returned the phone to her satchel, a good student, no, the most brilliant student who wouldn’t make it to Princeton anymore. There were other (good) universities. Teachers loved her because she always paid attention, even when she was thinking about Emily, since she started thinking about Emily months ago. AP Emily. AP Emily. She was alone in that class. Not even Hanna and Aria were there. Only Emily and a bed and a restroom and maybe a storage room too; food and coffee; pre-application forms to Harvard and Yale so she wouldn’t forget about the future; no parents, no swim team, only a pool, or the lake to calm down. AP Emily was not about loving a challenge. AP Emily couldn’t always be about the perfectionist Spencer, about the Spencer who strived for greatness and grace because Emily Gracious was by her side; it had to be about Emily this time; Emily who wouldn’t even so much as glance at her, or at anybody, anybody, anybody. Her panic increased so much that attempting an apology to Mrs. Montgomery for her blatant act of disrespect was not even taken into consideration; instead, she decided on extreme Emily-measures. Spencer moved fast the second Mrs. Montgomery finished telling them the fragments they had to read for tomorrow: snap the book shut, under the threshold in no time, wings growing in her back, iron, drool, crave, you are so mine, you are so mine yet everything is wrong and I am not stupid, it’s not Paige’s fault, it’s no one’s fault, but it _has_ to be someone’s _fault_ , Spencer got a hold of Emily’s pulsating wrist, dragged her to the corner next to the restrooms and trapped her there with no possibility of escape. Cave-man style. Beast-style, bitch-style, pull-off-your-hair-because-you’re-mine-style, only this was serious. This was really serious, and Spencer had to bite her lip hard not to scratch her thigh, not to care about everybody’s curious glances in the halls.

“Why aren’t you answering my texts?”

“What texts?” Emily searched for her phone a little frantically. “I was in class.”

“We’re _always_ in class.”

“I’m not feeling very good.”

The words softened Spencer’s heart while simultaneously hardening it. Everything she was seeing made her feel like the world was spinning too fast, too fast, too fast.

“Let me give you a ride home”, she begged, “cause you’re obviously feeling bad and you shouldn’t be here today.”

“No, I wanna go to class.”

Sometimes Spencer wished she could rip the stubbornness out of Emily. Only this wasn’t stubbornness. This was worse. This was worse. This was suffering.

“I haven’t even had a chance to tell you happy birthday yet, Em.”

Emily gave her a little smile, but her eyes looked clouded, rivers getting drought, diamonds like heavy rounded stones, a cloud, a cloud, a big black cloud pregnant with unborn rain. No signs of dreams and lively sins in her flutter. Nothing resembling hope.

“Tell me now.”

Her voice sounded weak too, a small little voice, girly and cute, but strained.

“Happy birthday.”

Spencer felt Emily’s fingers on hers, offering a gentle sign of her presence. “Thanks.”

Another smile tried to reach her lips, but there was just a general air of sickness and defeat around her, and Spencer felt terror, not insecurity or powerlessness, not even fury at her lack of understanding and control, just pure, utter terror because _something was wrong_. The saving parachute of Spencer was pushing them both directly to the ground. High speed. High speed death. She told her, she told her it was going to kill them. A car hitting a truck, or two bodies falling fast. There was a reason not to get one’s hopes up after a good day or a good night or a good _instant_. Spencer just didn’t know the reason, and if she didn’t know the reason she couldn’t fix the problem and, therefore, they were going to crash and the fall was unstoppable. She scratched her thigh, breathing in to encourage a sense of possible control.

“What’s wrong, Em?” Emily’s health was the only question not aggressive enough. “You need to go home if you’re sick.”

“I just really need to get some rest this afternoon.”

“Let me take you home, _please_." 

Emily shook her head, but seemed to really look her in the eye for the first time since they started talking. Spencer saw pure exhaustion mixed up with pain.

“Have you talked to your parents about Princeton?”

“Not yet.”

Emily seemed on the verge of crying for a moment. “Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer didn’t know what to answer. “I have a rash”, she let out, “on my thigh.”

“A rash?”

“On my thigh. I had it this morning when I woke up.”

Emily frowned in concern. “Can I see it?”

“Later”, Spencer promised, smiling a nervous smile at the thought of showing her upper thigh in the middle of school. Like they weren’t putting up a show for everybody already. “It’s not that bad.”

“You’re nervous”, Emily diagnosed. “How much coffee have you had?”

“Not too much”, Spencer lied. “Anyway there’s no proven correlation between caffeine and a rash.” She wondered if Emily, Mrs. Fields and Princeton could actually cause a rash, though.

“You should go to the nurse’s office.”

“And you”, Spencer took the chance to say. “Hanna said you’ve been throwing up.”

Emily nodded, pursing her lips and looking away. “I gotta go.”

“Wait.”

“We have class.”

“Are we gonna see each other later?” Bargaining for later seemed the only way to have a talk about this.

“Yeah, I just…” Emily looked everywhere, halls and people and walls and the floor, but not at her. This was a really, really bad sign. She squeezed her hand tighter, though, as if trying to communicate this way. “There’s something else I wanna do later.”

“Something _else_?”

It hit her like a brick in the head or Newton’s apple: something, someone, Pam Fields, lies. This was a lie.

Emily disentangled herself from her own hand-squeeze.

“I’ll tell you after class.”

“Am I even gonna see you after class?”

Emily gave another nod as she walked away. Spencer let her go, and then proceeded to have a heart attack that didn’t kill her right on the spot.

This was a lie.

This was A.

This was fucking A.

What the fuck was A doing now to lure Emily into getting the HGH?

Spencer locked herself in one stall and vomited into the toilet. Now both of them were sick and throwing up. What would Hanna say if she entered the restroom and heard her? Not that she was moaning and whimpering because of lesbian stand-up sex, that was for sure. Restrooms. Stalls. Sex. Sex. Sex. Texas. Emily should just leave for Texas, perhaps. A.

Garrett, Jenna, Ian (dead), Noel, who else, who else, who else, who else?

Caleb had a clue.

Tonight, tonight.

Maybe it was already too late.

She pulled her cell out and looked through her old messages.

Second best.

Not talking to you but talking to her.

She’d been so easy to pick on with her stupid jealousy.

Are you gonna let her drown? You know what you have to do, Spencer. Don’t cling, don’t cling - it’s selfish. Provide a solution. It’s not about being efficient, it’s about _doing_ something. Keep Toby safe. Keep Toby safe.

It’s not romantic.

She bent down and vomited again.

Lady MacBeth.

Lady MacBeth.

Breaking hearts, breaking hearts.

There was no way she could make it like this to French, so she decided to hide in her SUV until Emily had to walk to her own car. If she could only get a hold of Emily’s phone to see whatever A was doing to her now… but there was no way Emily would let het get close.

It was pouring down.

The steam accumulated inside the car and she drew houses, a shark and a dog with a tail on the window, when all she wanted to draw was a bullet for A’s head.

How many heads?

How many heads?

She tried calling Caleb, but he wouldn’t pick up. Whoever would have thought he was formal enough to ignore his phone in class. Freaking hobos. Freaking formal hobos.

You’re not the kind of girl who runs out to breathe for air.

It’s the same.

Friends and lovers, it’s the same, it’s the same - but it’s not the same.

Mine, mine, mine.

The rain became a drizzle just when people started crowding the parking lot.

Emily walked to her car under her purple umbrella, the same clouded pain on her face, but her expression turned anguished at the sight of Spencer leaning against the driver’s door. When she was close enough, Spencer opened her mouth and let it pour out like the rain.

“What is A doing to you?”

If Emily could get livid pale, she did after hearing the question. She fumbled for her keys, trying to find them inside her backpack.

Finally she looked up. “Nothing.”

It was a lie.

“I’m not gonna keep asking forever, Emily”, Spencer threatened, but the next thing she did was ask again. “What is A trying to get you to do? What does A have?”

Emily frowned intensely. “This is not about A, I’m just having a really bad day.” There was an unlocking click when Emily opened the car, but she didn’t dare approach the door.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth”, Emily snapped, and this time she did approach the door, almost boldly, also furiously, “so it’d be nice if you asked properly.”

“I already asked properly”, Spencer fired back, “I’ve basically tried to get _any_ kind of answer from you _all_ day.”

“I’m _feeling_ sick.”

“But you have to go _somewhere_ and it’s not _home_ ”, Spencer accused. “Give me your phone.”

Emily widened her eyes. “What?”

“Give me your phone.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I am certainly not kidding.”

“You are _not_ the police.”

“So just spill it”, Spencer raised her voice. “I’m gonna follow you around if you don’t say it.”

Emily bit her lip, looking both outraged and resigned. She took her phone out of the pocket of her rain coat, unblocked it and handed it over to Spencer.

It was too easy.

It was too easy.

Spencer eagerly opened the last texts. Texts from her. Welcome to seventeen. Where are you. Meet me in the lockers. A-news. I love you. I love you. Aria. Hanna. Nothing.

“You erased them.”

“Will you stop doing this?”, Emily begged in a commanding voice. “Just let me be, okay?”

“Let you be what?” Neither of them was going to go down without the cruelest fight, but the words hurt anyway. “Let you be dead? Let you _cheat_ on me?”

Emily rolled her eyes, not so very convincingly. “I told you I’d never do that.” Her voice trembled slightly, though. She would never do that. She _had_ already done that, but it didn’t work out, and they got A’s phone, and they had sex, and what else - everything else.

“Then what are you going to do?”

“You’re going crazy, Spencer.”

It hurt anyway.

“Believe me, I appreciate the courage you show when you do everything A wants you to do”, Spencer sarcastically offered with a sting of her own, knowing the courage remark would create some turmoil. “But I’m still right about this and you know it.”

Emily stared at her, blinking the raindrops away. “Let’s get in the car”, Emily said in a softer tone, “we’re gonna get sick.”

As if they weren’t sick already.

They got inside the car and Emily turned to her. “It’s not what you think.” Her words sounded careful but the rest of her face was not lying. It was what Spencer thought. She had to get tougher and curb Emily’s determination or else they were lost.

“This is the last time I’m asking you, Emily.”

“The last time you’re asking me what?”

“Where the fuck are you going?”, Spencer barked. “What’s with A this time?”

“I am going to swim some laps to Aquinas college, all right?”, Emily barked in response. Her bark was broken but angry. “So will you just leave me alone for a while?”

It actually made Spencer hesitate.

“Why do you need to be alone for that?”

“I was gonna ask you to pick me up later”, Emily clarified, leaning back against the seat in a perfect theatrical pose of frustration, “but you’re making such a huge thing out of this when it’s nothing.”

Spencer couldn’t believe her ears. “I am making _what_?”

Guilt painted Emily’s face. “Just come pick me up later, Spencer, please.”

“You’re gonna swim on your birthday.”

“Yes.”

“Why can’t I go with you?”

“I wanna go alone.”

“Right”, Spencer crossed her arms, bit her lip, mentally slapped herself trying to think fast. A doubt crossed her mind. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Emily was going with someone else and didn’t want to say it. It was ugly, and it hurt. “You going with Paige?” She knew she shouldn’t have said it. She knew this was not what was happening. Still, the doubt crossed her mind and made it to her lips and out in the air of the car. Paige, Paige, Wren.

“You’re still jealous.”

“This is not about being jealous”, Spencer argued, knowing it’d been a slip that provided Emily with enough ammunition, “this is about you being like this with me and everybody else, and I am not an idiot, Emily, as much as you’d like to think I am, I am _not_.”

“Fine, cause I am going to swim!” Emily’s high-pitched scream resonated in the car. “I have to be back in the team in about two weeks, okay? You know that. You were there yesterday.”

“I was there and you weren’t like this yesterday.”

Emily groaned. “I feel worse today.”

“Is this about Wren?”

The question seemed to really catch Emily by surprise. “No.” Of course it wasn’t. But Hanna and Aria had planted that doubt in her mind.

“This is only about swimming, and you’re doing it precisely _today_.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my gift to myself.”

“I’m not gonna let you go alone.”

“Well, I don’t want you with me doing this, so you don’t have a choice.” The virulence of Emily’s scorn shocked Spencer. Whatever A was doing to her, it had to be bad to make her react like this. “I _can_ do things on my own, so stop breathing on my neck cause I am not one of your pushovers that you’re trying to get answers from, okay?”

“Things like lying you can do, I’ll give you that.”

Spencer’s punch worked. Emily’s eyes filled with tears and she choked them back insistently before speaking again.

“Don’t act like you never lied.”

“I _never_ lied to _you_.”

Emily killed her with a desperate glare. “Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?” Wren. She had to mean Wren. “You mean Wren again? That wasn’t a lie, and I did it to help you.”

Emily’s jaw tensed even more, and she took a few seconds to respond. “You can wait for me outside.” It sounded flat, like she was giving up on the on-my-own fight, but not completely.

Spencer grabbed Emily’s hand strongly, but Emily brushed it off, avoiding contact.

“What’s going on, Em?”

“You don’t trust me, that’s what’s going on.”

Spencer stared in disbelief, mouth open. This was A. She had to keep pushing.

“You know?” Her own scorn made it to her ears as she dripped it. “You can just call Paige and tell her to pick you up, I’m sure she’ll be happy to help you out with swimming.”

Emily flinched at the remark, but her words didn’t show it. “Paige again.”

“Things do keep coming back, huh?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re on your own”, Spencer said coldly. “Hope you enjoy it.”

She opened the door and stepped out, slamming it on Emily’s face. She knew it was harsh but she had to push it as much as she could. Emily started the car, though, her face blurry behind the wet windshield. The wipers started moving in a frenzy before the car sped up.

No, she wasn’t going to leave Emily on her own. It was all for the sake of theatricals.

Fifty minutes later she arrived to Aquinas college. Emily’s car was parked there and it took Spencer about ten minutes to find the pool. Emily was swimming laps like the house was on fire, and Spencer’s heart shrunk in her chest, pondering the possibility she had made a mistake. Maybe A wanted Emily to swim here. Maybe Emily was telling the truth. No. No.

She knew Emily.

Emily was lying.

She observed her punish her body against the water for another hour. Instead of the usual grace and organic sympathy between body and water that Spencer had always found alluring and worthy of her most natural admiration, Spencer saw anger, a sustained fight, hatred even, and she wondered if the water symbolized now for Emily all the problems they had, or if it could be a representation of Spencer after their nasty encounter in the car. Perhaps it was Emily’s way of getting back at everybody who was harming her. The thought that she could be one of them made Spencer’s vision weak. It couldn’t be healthy to train like that after more than a month without touching water. She was starting to consider getting into the pool to force her out when Emily finally climbed up and wrapped herself in an Aquinas towel. The look she gave her when she saw her standing there was hurt, but not surprised.

“I thought you said I was on my own.”

Spencer didn’t answer, and Emily walked past her, the scent of chlorine she’d almost forgotten breezing into her nostrils as she followed her to the showers.

“Are you gonna watch me get a shower too?”, Emily asked in an annoyed tone, turning around to face her. “Do you think I’m gonna cheat on you here? You can take a look if you want, search for Paige, you know, just so you’re sure.”

It got to her this time, and Spencer felt the sky falling down on her, because this wasn’t about Paige, or about Wren, or about any of those stupid little petty things they were saying to each other, it wasn’t even about doing things on one’s own, needing space, showing up for courage, feeling alone, this was about A and Spencer knew it, but there was no way to cut the path open to the truth of what was really happening between them.

She was right.

She was right.

She told her they needed to stick together through this. She told her it was going to happen again, she said it would kill them, here they were, here they were, not knowing what the correct answer was to any question. So she also turned around to offer her back, and walked out of the showers, travelling the halls of this unknown place, looking at posters and signs of this university life that was not so far from them anymore because soon they would be doing it like everybody else, people posting numbers, asking for a room, no smokers, I have a cat, a poster for a movie they had shown last Saturday in the classic film club, _Blow-up_ , Spencer had seen it, and how strange it was to show that one in a Catholic college anyway, although it was about a photographer who discovered a murder after enlarging some pictures and focusing on the most microscopical details, it was like _Rear Window_ , only this one was European and kind of hard to understand ( _very_ hard, she should say), and it happened in the 1960s when people were having lots of sex and probably taking lots of drugs, not the wisest idea. It should’ve been interesting to attend the discussion, she thought as she contemplated the solid red of the poster from where the photographer emerged in a hardly concealed sexual pose with the model he was photographing, she had long hair, her arms were extended on the floor, she was giving herself away to him, the camera representing sex, or more likely eroticism as seen through a lens, and suddenly all she could think was Emily’s hair was much more beautiful than the one of that girl, everything about Emily and only about her. Spencer walked until she finally got out to the cold again. It had stopped raining. Sunset was starting to paint the afternoon, the dark falling so fast because there was no sun to set, there was no sun, and she couldn’t believe it because it was Emily’s date of birth.

What if she was wrong?

What if she was just a paranoid bitch?

She checked her phone. A missed call from Caleb, a text from Hanna telling her they’d be at her house at 8, and A. “ _Smart Spencer_. – A” That was the message. You smart-ass. You fine piece of detective ass. You can’t even know what’s going on in your life. But you’re smart.

Emily walked out twenty minutes later, looking around in obvious worry until she saw her, wrapped in her coat under a roof, waiting, waiting for her against a wall, hands shoved in her pockets. Emily’s hair was still wet, long and glossy as ever, foam, foam, what a different shower this had been, no sand, no gravel this time. Emily was going to get sick – sicker.

They looked at each other, they recognized who they were.

“I’m sorry I said that”, Emily spoke, voice soft, “I didn’t mean it.”

“Caleb’s gonna be at my house tonight”, Spencer replied, already on the move. “He’s got something else for us.”

Emily nodded, following her. “Do we know what it is?”

“I’ve got no idea.”

They walked to Emily’s car, and the same unlocking click happened, only this time they were side by side instead of face to face.

“Are your parents home?”

“Not tonight”, Spencer answered, bitterly thinking of everything she thought was going to happen tonight in her deserted home, in her bed, under her sheets. She caught a flash of relief in Emily’s face, but she didn’t know what to do with it, she didn’t know what to do with anything. “That’s why we’re meeting there.”

“We can go in the same car.”

“There’s no point.”

Turning towards the door, Emily hid her face. “Okay.” It broke Spencer’s heart. It broke Spencer’s heart again.

“Em.”

Emily looked back, and Spencer simply returned the gaze before skipping around the front of the car to climb inside the passenger’s seat. She’d have to ask for a ride tomorrow. Two rides: one to school and another one here to recover her car.

Silence was all they said to each other until they reached her house.

She didn’t know what it meant.

It was darker by the time they arrived, and Emily pulled over in the empty driveway.

“No one’s here yet.”

“It’s at 8”, Spencer replied. “You should go home and then come back.”

“I can stay.” She said it so shyly, it obviously took a lot of courage to utter the words. “If you want.”

“You need company now?”

It was difficult to avoid a certain kind of cruelty in this situation.

“I could leave too.”

Spencer turned to examine her. Stay or leave. She was still gentle, she obviously regretted some of the things she’d said, but she didn’t look much better than she did this morning. Beautiful, yes. She was always beautiful. There was no one more beautiful than her.

“We can’t go on like this.”

Emily’s body trembled, and next it was her voice. “I need time.”

“This is not about needing time either, Em.”

“What is it about?”

“This is not us”, Spencer said. Neither of them was shouting. It was like the end of the day had lowered their voices and their battle. “Just look at us.”

“I know it’s not us, but…”

“Just look at _you_ ”, Spencer insisted. “You’re doing this and I don’t know why you’re doing it but I know it’s A and you won’t say it, so it must be something _really_ bad, and it’s always gonna happen, and if we’re like this now what are we gonna do next?”

Emily took a deep breath. “Maybe Caleb’s got something.” She said it without much conviction. How many times had they said that already?

“Maybe’s not good for us anymore.”

“I swam today.” She didn’t say it with pride. It was more like a flare in the night. Something that could bring some sort of rescue operation to the island where she’d been left.

“I saw you.”

“I’ll be back in the team in two weeks.”

“That’s not what I’m saying”, Spencer tried to clarify, although she suspected Emily knew what she was talking about, “and that’s also not why you did it.”

Emily looked down to her hands. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re right”, Spencer agreed, “because you won’t tell me.”

“I just need you to be a little patient with me right now.”

“And I need you to stop lying, Em.”

Emily looked hurt. “You saw me swimming.”

“And that’s it?”

Emily got uncomfortable in the seat. “Can you at least try and…”

“No, I can’t”, Spencer answered terminally, but then proceeded to explain. “It’s your birthday and we were gonna talk and I’ve tried everything to _talk_ to you, and now what?”

“Now we can talk.”

Spencer knew the stare she was giving was one of intense disbelief.

“I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen”, she said with no pity. “You’re gonna pretend to talk and I’m gonna listen to you, and maybe if you’re really good I’m gonna believe you cause I don’t know what’s going on, right? And because you swam and maybe it’s true I’m going nuts.” Emily didn’t answer anything, only stared back completely appalled. “And then we’re gonna have sex. Because we both need it.”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

She seemed so innocent when she said that. Almost as if she really believed it. She probably did. But they’d end up having sex anyway.

“I want to, that’s also the problem.”

“Why is that a problem?”

Because sex changed minds, blew minds, blew bodies. _Their_ minds, _their_ bodies.

“You know why.”

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just…”

“What?”

“We can just be together.”

“No.”

Emily’s black sombre eyes grew really big and instantly watery. “What are you saying?”

“I think you know what I’m saying.”

She shook her head. “Spencer, don’t.” She knew - of course she knew.

“Let’s take a break.”

There it was, uttered with no sign of bitterness or sarcasm.

“You’re kidding.”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh. “You think?”

“You can’t be serious”. Her voice had suddenly high-pitched again. “You can’t just break up with me because I didn’t want you to come with me today. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“That is _not_ the reason.”

“You said you wouldn’t call it off, you said you wouldn’t.”

“ _I don’t want to_.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“We have to.”

Emily’s eyes came back to life. Big black cloud, giving birth to rain. “You can’t give that to A.” Big black cloud, big black hole, the night, the universe, stars, diamonds, the rain.

“I get texts too, Em”, Spencer cracked. “This is not so different from what you’re doing.”

“It is completely different”, she battled fiercely. “Everything I’m doing I’m doing for you and…”

“I didn’t _ask_ you to”, Spencer retorted, “and I didn’t _want_ you to, and I always said it was a _mistake_.”

Emily wiped some tears with the back of her sweater. “This is not about being right, Spencer, it’s not… you don’t realize what it is…”

“That’s why I’m doing it.”

Emily finally choked on her tears, unable to continue talking, but her sweater kept the struggle against the flood.

“Em, it’s just a break, it’s just a break until…”

Aria’s car pulled over next to them. They hadn’t even heard it approaching the house in the street. Spencer saw Hanna’s blondness hopping out of the passenger’s seat, followed by Caleb and finally by Aria’s shorter figure. All their faces fell when they caught a glimpse of Emily’s battle with the flood of tears. Caleb’s too. Caleb, who had told Spencer to show how she could make Emily happy only two days ago, two days ago, in the party, out in the street. She suddenly remembered the last birthday present she’d gotten for today, abandoned in her car in Aquinas college. Instead, this birthday present. Bitch-style. Bitch-style.

Tears rushed to her eyes too.

“It’s just a break.”

Tears rushed to her eyes too but they stopped before falling. Someone had to wear the bitch-pants, someone had to be the cruel one and it was never going to be Emily, it was a break, it was a break, it was only a break. She opened the door and got out of the car without a slam, sending a clear instruction to Hanna and Aria to take charge of the situation.

The keys to her house fell to her feet because her hands were shaking.

Because, because, because.

Caleb picked them up. His eyes were shining too. Freaking hobo. Freaking sensitive hobo. She opened the door, told him to set his tech on the kitchen table and left for the restroom downstairs. Restroom, restroom, restroom. She already wanted to go back to the car to check on Emily. Maybe if she could just break down into two persons with alternate different functions. Spencer, friend. Spencer, friend, is coming out again, walking out, walking in, solutions, solutions, solutions, Spencer, lover, she’s hibernated, she’s packaged out, not here, not here, not here. It’s just a break. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know what you’re doing. I love you too, I love you too, I will always love you too. She cried.


End file.
